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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 




JOHN G. GITTINGS, 



Late Adjutant 3lst Virginia Infantry, and Major Confederate 
Cavalry. 



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Sto&evall Mm, 



« — ^XjSO— » 

SKETCHES ANDSTORIKS. 



BY 
JOHN G. GITTINGS. 



oinoinnati. 

The Editor Publishing Company, 

1899. 



Copyright 
The Editor Publishing Company 

1899. 

^WOCOPIfcb KtCtlV£0. 




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^fCONTENTS.'Ji^ 

PAGE. 

Personal Recollections of Stonewall Jackson 1 

Sonnet ------ 67 

PART II. 

Sketches of Travel and Biography - - 69 

Across The Ocean - - - - - 71 

Tower of London . _ . _ 79 

Westminster Abbey - - - - 86 

The Battlefield of Waterloo - - - 96 

Switzerland _ _ . _ . i(X) 

Venice ------ 107 

Rome - - _ - - 111 

Pompeii ------ ng 

The Midway Plaisance - - - - 123 

Audubon and the Birds _ . . 129 

The Twenty-second Day of February - - 135 

An Historical Sketch - - - - 140 

Evangeline ------ 153 

PART III. 

Fiction ------ 165 

Rose Trevillian - - _ _ _ 1^7 

The Light That Failed - - - 205 

On The Trail 227 

Trelawney - - . _ _ 260 



PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 

OF 

"STONEWALL JACKSON." 



PART I. 



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STONEWALL JACKSON. 



PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
"STONEWALL" JACKSON. 

BY JOHN G. GITTINGS. 

(Late Adjutant 31st. Virginia Infantry and Major 
(Confederate Cavalry). 



PART I. 

Major Thomas Jonathan Jackson was a pro- 
fessor at the Virginia Military Institute, at 
Lexington, Virginia, when the writer, a cadet, 
first met him in the year 1852. 

A relative of Jackson and coming from his 
native town, he bore a letter of introdution to him, 
which letter, however, was not presented; for 
this young recruit had met with such a warm re- 
ception from the older cadets on his arrival, and 
was withal, so depressed by the rigid discipline of 
the school, that he feared to face this professor, 
whom he looked upon even then as a hero, one 
who had received the "baptism of fire" in Mex- 
ico, and was "the only officer promoted twice 
in one day" — as he had been informed by the 
village chronicler, who thus dilated on the 
1 



2 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

achievements of- Jackson in the war against the 
Mexicans. - ' 

I found on my arrival at the school that Jack- 
son was then absent and would not return for 
some weeks; in fact, I had been a cadet for a 
month before I finally met him. 

One evening shortly after his return, he sent 
the sergeant of the guard with the order that I 
should report at his quarters without delay. On 
receiving this order my first thought was that I 
had violated some one of the innumerable mili- 
tary rules and was about to be called to an 
account therefor ; so it was with some trepida- 
tion that I went to the Major's quarters. 

However, he met me at the door of his room 
with a pleasant smile ; he took my cap and 
placed it carefully on the table, gave me the 
best chair, then seating himself, began to look 
on me critically, as if taking an inventory of 
my person. He spoke kindly of our mutual 
friends, in quick, sharp and rather inarticulate 
tones, and appeared to be making an effort at 
politeness; but boy as I was, I thought his man- 
ner strained and awkward, yet I regarded him 
with deference, and perhaps awe. 

This was my first meeting with "Stonewall" 
Jackson. He v/as then about twenty-eight 
years of age, six feet tall, with gray-blue eyes, 
a well chiseled aquiline nose, and a very fair and 
ruddy countenance. He wore side whiskers, 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 3 

and one noting his complexion, ruddy counte- 
nance, and reserved manner, might have mistaken 
him for an Englishman ; but here the resemblance 
ceased, for in thought and expression, this quiet, 
unaffected man was all American. 

As I sat in his presence that day, and ob- 
served his diffidence, this thought passed through 
my mind : Can this modest man be the one who 
fought so bravely in Mexico; and who 
stood by his cannon after all his men had been 

killed or driven away? 

***** 

Thomas Jonathan Jackson, the subject of this 
sketch, was born in the town of Clarksburg, now 
West Virginia, on the 21st of January, 1824. 
His birthplace was i little story-and-a-half brick 
house which stood on Main Street nearly oppo- 
site the court house. This building was torn 
down only a few years since. His father, who 
was a lawyer of good ability, died when "Tom" 
was only three years old, leaving his widowed 
mother with his sister Julia, an infant in arms, 
together with his brother, Warren, perhaps two 
years older than himself. The father's grave is 
still to be seen, marked by a simple head- stone, 
in the old "Jackson graveyard" at the eastern 
end of town. The young widow and her chil- 
dren were left almost destitute, but they had a 
large family connection of Jacksons in this 
vicinity, and among them the children and their 



4 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

mother lived for several years, until the time 
when the mother remarried and the elder 
brother, Warren, had died. "Tom" was then 
left to the care of his uncle, Cummins Jackson, 
and grew up at "Jackson's mills," sixteen miles 
south of Clarksburg. Here he received the 
little schooling the country could aiford, and, 
at least could read and write. He did chores 
about the mill and also acted as a deputy sheriff 
of Lewis County, until about the age of eighteen, 
when he learned of the vacancy at West Point, 
from this congressional district. 

Cummins Jackson, a rugged, stern man, was 
very kind to his young relative, and let him 
have his own way pretty much. He was a man 
of ample means, and lived with a free hand; 
he kept race horses, and was fond of sport gen- 
erally. Little Tom w^as noted as being almost a 
sure winner whenever he rode his uncle's racers, 
which he did on important occasions. 

The writer has been told by men who knew 
him that Cummins Jackson was a fine speciman 
of physical manhood. They said he was a 
giant in stature and built in proportion. 

The fact is that "Stonewall" Jackson was de- 
scended from a long line of distinguished 
ancestry, men prominent in the affairs of this 
section, both in state and nation, from before 
the Revolution down to the present day. 

The family had its rise from the union of 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 5 

John Jackson and Elizabeth Cummins, emigrants 
from England, who came over in the same ship 
in the year 1748. Soon after their arrival in 
this country they were married in Maryland. 
They then removed to the vicinity of Moor- 
field, Hardy County. In the year 1765 they 
crossed the Alleghany mountains and settled in 
the wilderness on the Buckhannon River, near a 
place afterwards known as .Jackson's Fort, but 
which is now the town of Buckhannon. 

John Jackson was of Scotch Irish descent; he 
was about twenty- three years of age when he 
crossed the ocean to make his home in the wes- 
tern wilderness. He has been described as "a 
man of medium stature, of great goodness, in- 
dustry, and tranquil courage." 

Elizabeth Cummins, the young English girl 
who united her fortune with his, and from 
whom the Jacksons are said to have derived 
their vigor of body and intellect, had a roman- 
tic history. She was the daughter of a landlord 
in London ; her father was the proprietor of a 
public house called "The Bold Dragoon." 
As the name would indicate, the place was the 
resort of the military officers of the garrisons near 
by. Elizabeth is described to have been a stately 
blonde, nearly six feet in stature, and almost 
perfect in form and feature. She was well 
educated and possessed a resolute, active 
mind. It happened on a day when she 



6 STONEWALL JACKSOX. 

was about sixteen years of age, that a sol- 
dier, presumably an officer, offered her some 
impertinence, or what she considered as such, 
and which excited the ire of the stately beauty, 
till in her anger she hurled a heavy tankard at 
his head with such force that it laid him bleed- 
ing and senseless on the floor. 

In her fright at what she had done, she has- 
tily left the house and repaired to the docks, 
w^here she took refuge on a vessel that was just 
weighing anchor, bound for America. She was 
acquainted with the captain of the ship, and 
also made friends with a family who was glad to 
have her accompany them to the colony of Lord 
Baltimore in Maryland. Thus she met her future 
husband, and left England never to return. 

They lived in the western wilderness, in the 
turmoil of the Indian warfare, until the breaking 
out of the Revolutionary struggle. Meanwhile, 
they had acquired some of the most valuable 
real estate in this section of the country, and 
had each of them played their part in the hand 
to hand conflicts with the savages. 

It is the tradition, that on an occasion when 
an Indian had killed a white man near the'[set- 
tlement, while the rest of the men were at work 
at a distance, Elizabeth Jackson took down her 
husband's rifle, and calling the dogs, chased^the 
savage out of the neighborhood before the men 
could be collected. 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 7 

On the breaking out of the Revolutionary war 
John Jackson and his elder sons, George and 
Edward, the latter the grandfather of "Stone- 
wall," bore their part as soldiers, staunch and 
true, and at the close returned to their homes in 
the wilds of Virginia. 

Col. George Jackson, who lived at Clarks- 
burg, became a member of the First Congress 
under the Constitution, and Edward Jackson 
also became a member of a later Congress. 

One of the most distinguished members of the 
family w^as John G. Jackson of Clarksburg, 
where many of his descendents still reside. He 
was the eldest son of George Jackson, and served 
in Congress for about twenty years, and finally 
became the Federal Judge of the Western Dis- 
trict of Virginia, which office he held until his 
death in 1825. It was in this year that the 
mother of the family, Elizabeth Cummins Jack- 
son, died, at the great age of one hundred and 
five years ! Her husband had died twenty-four 
years before, at the age of eighty-six. 

Judge John G. Jackson, before there was any 
outlet from this region save by pack-horses over 
the mountains, built iron forges and furnaces, 
woollen-mills, foundries, and salt-wells ; he pro- 
posed to make the West Fork river navigable 
for steam-boats, by building slack water dams; 
and also, by a short tunnel, he would turn the 
head waters of the Buckhannon river into the 



8 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

West Fork and thus increase its volume of wa- 
ter. And as before the clearing of the forest 
along the head streams, the volume of water 
was much more constant than at present, and 
with the supply, by tunnel, from the Buckhan- 
non river, men now say his plan was feasible, 
and all this he would probably have accom- 
plished seventy years ago, had not death strick- 
en him down, at the early age of forty-seven 
years! 

Lately, surveys of the West Fork of the Mo- 
nongahela river have been ordered by the 
National Congress, and a liberal appropriation 
for that purpose has been made, in order to 
make this river navigable, and to carry out the 
designs that Judge Jackson had put in active 
operation nearly three quarters of a century 
ago. But now that the river banks have been 
denuded, to a great extent, of their forests ; and 
that the hydrographic conditions have entirely 
changed, it is believed that it is now impracti- 
cable to make this channel navigable for any ex- 
cept small boats. 

In coiinection with this family history, it may 
be stated that the first wife of Judge John G. 
Jackson was a sister of Dolly Madison, the wife 
of the President. They were married in the 
White House during its occupancy by President 
Madison, and it is said that this was the 
first marriage that was ever celebrated in that 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 9 

historic building. Judge Jackson's second wife 
was Mary Meigs the daughter of Return Jon- 
athan Meigs, Governor of Ohio. Governor Meigs 
was a son of that Colonel Return Jonathan 
Meigs of the Revolutionary army, who 
marched through the wilderness of Maine, as a 
colonel of Connecticut militia, with Benedict 
Arnold to the siege of Quebec. He was by the 
side of Montgomery, when that gallant officer 
fell in the assault on the Citadel. Meigs served 
with great distinction, to the close of the eight 
years' struggle for liberty. He received a vote 
from the Continental Congress thanking him 
for having captured a British fleet at Sackett's 
Harbor; that body also presented him with a 
handsome sword in acknowledgment of his ser- 
vices to his country. 

"Stonewall" Jackson always took a lively in- 
terest in his family history; and from Mrs. 
Jackson's Memoirs of her husband, and to 
which work we are indebted, we learn that prior 
to the war he wrote to his cousin William L. 
Jackson, then Lieutenant Governor of Virginia, 
in behalf of some relative w^ho was running for 
a political office. W. L. Jackson afterwards 
served on the staff of "Stonewall" in the war; 
he subsequently became a general, in com- 
mand of a cavalry brigade ; he survived the war, 
and after serving as a judge for many years, in 
Kentucky, lately died at Louisville. 



10 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

In the letter above alluded to, "Stonewall" 
wrote to his cousin : "I am most anxious to see 
our family enjoying that high standard and 
influence which it possessed in days of yore." 

He said his Jackson relations were -'very 
clannish" and he was warm in his family attach- 
ments, himself. But he would give none of 
them military office, unless they first proved 
themselves worthy of it, by actual service on 
the battle-field. From this section, he appointed 
his relative Col. Alfred H. Jackson on his staff. 
This gallant officer fell on the battle-field of Ce- 
dar Mountain and died soon thereafter. He was 
buried in the cemetery at Lexington near 
"Stone-wall's" grave. 

"Stonewall's" mother was Julia Neale, the 
daughter of Thomas Neale, of Parkersburg ; her 
father was descended on the maternal side from 
the Lewises, a distinguished family, the rela- 
tives of Washington, and prominent in the In- 
dian wars and Revolutionary history. 

"Stonewall" Jackson felt all the pride of de- 
scent from a long line of worthy ancestors; he 
also felt his lack of education and how much it 
would cripple him in his efforts to rise from the 
humble position in which he had been cast by 
cruel fate. 

Hence, while he was riding over the hills of 
Lewis County, in the performance of his duties 
as deputy sheriff, when the news was brought to 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 11 

him that there was a vacancy at West Point from 
his congressional district, he immediately set 
about to obtain the appointment. His friends, 
knowing his manly, brave spirit, and knowing 
also, that it was of such metal that soldiers were 
made, were especially anxious that he should 
obtain the appointment. 

Tom now began to study his books at night, 
after his hard labor of the day. He was doubt- 
ful about his ability to enter West Point, but 
was determined that he would fail through no 
lack of effort on his part, either to obtain the 
appointment, or to sustain himself after he had 
done so. But his impetuous temper could not 
brook delay; so it came about that he started 
alone, and with poor outfit, on the long journey 
to Washington City before he had received any 
notice that he could get the appointment! 
***** 

The writer lives in the town where Jackson 
was born, and has often conversed with old cit- 
izens who were men grown at that time ; they 
have told him that Jackson made the journey on 
foot to Washington, a distance of nearly three 
hundred miles — carrying his clothing in his sad- 
dle-bags — in order to solicit the appointment to 
West Point from Mr. Hays, the representative 
from this district. 

It is said Mr. Hays was much startled at the ap- 
parition of a country boy,dressed in homespun and 



12 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

all travel stained, marching into his presence, with 
saddle-pockets on his shoulder and abruptly de- 
manding the appointment as a cadet to West 
Point ! 

The congressman thought that, considering 
his limited opportunities, surely Jackson was 
not qualified to pass the examination which was 
required to enter that institution. But when he 
had learned that he had made the long journey on 
foot, over two mountain ranges and through the 
forest, for three hundred miles, merely to ask for 
the appointment, and that "he must have it," 
then he replied: "You shall have it!" 

It is related that after Mr. Hays had consented 
to give him the appointment, he asked Jackson 
if he w^ould not like to w^alk over the city and see 
the sights, but he declined, saying, "he would 
like to climb up in the dome of the Capitol and 
take a view from there, and then he would be 
ready to go on to West Point and begin his work, 
and he w^as anxious to do so as soon as possible." 

His life at West Point was a long struggle ;he 
w^as barely able to sustain himself in his class 
for a year or two, but he gradually forged ahead, 
and it was thought that if the course of study 
had been several years longer, he would have 
climbed to the top. The cadets, at first, were 
disposed to treat him with especial rigor, as he 
appeared unsophistocated, but in time they came 
to respect him and to believe that wdth his sin- 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 13 

cerity of purpose, and unwearied application, he 
would be able to acquit himself with credit, which 
he did. 

'^ ^ ^v % :^ 

Let us return now, to the scenes at the Virginia 
Military Institute, and to my intercourse with 
Jackson as a professor before I knew him in the 
sterner duties of war. 

It was not until my second year at the Mili- 
tary Academy that I came to recite in the classes 
taught by Major Jackson, but in the meanwhile 
I was under his instruction at artillery practice, 
which consisted principally, as far as the 
"plebes" were concerned, in drawing the pieces 
and caissons. 

Jackson always wore his uniform and his mili- 
tary cap, the visor of which almost touched his 
nose ; he was lank and long-limbed and walked 
with a long, measured stride, swaying his arms 
leisurely, while his gray-blue eyes seemed to 
search the ground in front. His brow w^as ex- 
pressive and bore, without doubt, the impress of 
genius. "Calm dignity; unalfected modesty; 
sincerity; and the intense honesty of his nature 
were imprinted on his countenance," and shown 
forth in every trait of his manners. 

I will admit that the cadets generally, did not 
regard him in this light, but differently ; yet 
such was my opinion at the time, and in looking 
back through the vista of years, I believe it to be 
a correct one. 



14 STONEWALL JACXSON. 

At the artillery practice we soon learned that 
Major Jackson was a very strict and exacting 
officer. He expected every cannoneer to do his 
duty, and every "plebe", who served in 
place of a horse, too! 

One day on the parade ground afeIlow"plebe" 
managed, in some way, to draw out a linchpin 
from the wheel of a "limber" at which I was 
pulling, and as a consequence, in trotting down 
hill at a fast pace, the wheel flew off with con- 
siderable force. As the fates would have it, it 
rolled directly towards "Old Jack," who was 
looking in an opposite direction. He turned his 
head in time to see its approach, and although 
it passed within a few inches of his person, he 
did not budge from his tracks. 

A cadet remarked : '"He would not have moved 
if it had been a cannon ball going right 
through him !" But we soon observed that his 
gaze was fixed intently on our battery in a way 
that made us feel very uncomfortable, and in a 
brief space we were placed under arrest-officers, 
cannoneers, horses, all; and as a result this breach 
of discipline was settled in a way that did not 
invite any repetition of the offense. 

Professor Jackson was an able instructor at 
artillery tactics, but in the regular collegiate 
course he did not appear to have any special 
genius for teaching; yet he was always a con- 
scientious, laborious instructor. He was said to 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 15 

be dyspeptic, and perhaps was something of a 
hypochondriac, as his health had been very 
much impaired by his service in Mexico; he had 
been at a water-cure establishment in the north, 
and the prescription had been given him to live on 
stale bread and buttermilk. He followed this pre- 
scription for some time while boarding in the hotel 
in Lexington, and these peculiarities attracted 
the attention of the public and he was much 
laughed at by the rude and coarse. He bore all 
their jests with patience. In a like manner he 
carried out another order from the water-cure — 
to go to bed at nine o'clock. If that hour found 
him at a party, a lecture, or a religious exercise, 
he would invariably take his leave. His dys- 
pepsia caused drowsiness and he often went to 
sleep while sitting in his chair; he was a devout 
member of the Presbyterian church, over which 
the Rev. Dr. AYhite presided, but he would sleep 
during the service. And it is stated that Jack- 
son was thrown into confusion, on a public oc- 
casion, when a mesmerist failed to put him to 
sleep — some one in the audience called out — "No 
one can put Major Jackson to sleep but Rev. Dr. 
White!" 

It was the custom at the Military School to 
fire salutes of artillery on the Fourth of July 
and Washington's birthday. In honor of such 
occasions Major Jackson would always don his 
best uniform and wear his finest sword, a very 



16 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

handsome one, which the cadets said had been 
presented to him by the ladies of New Orleans 
at the close of the Mexican War. 

In the gray dawn of the morning he would 
come marching on the parade ground, with his 
fine sabre tucked well up under his left arm. He 
had the long stride, as has been noticed, like 
that of a dismounted cavalryman, and on such 
occasions his manners would be brisk, if not 
cheery, for he took special pride in these cele- 
brations and was very punctilious in all their 
observances. 

Major Jackson married a daughter of Doctor 
Junkin, president of Washington College, in the 
second year of my stay at Lexington. He then 
took up his residence in the town. Before his 
removal from the barracks, however, an incident 
occurred which will go to show the estimate in 
which he was held, even by the most intractable 
characters. A number of cadets who were about 
to be dismissed through incompetency in their 
studies or for excess of demerit marks, while on 
a Christmas frolic made a raid on the professors* 
rooms in the barracks, and despoiled them. 
Major Jackson's room alone was left intact. It 
is difficult to determine why these young vandals 
should have respected his quarters when they 
seemed to respect nothing else. Some suggested 
that as cadets, they respected his military fame 
won in Mexico. It is a notable fact that even at 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 17 

that time the cadets had an abiding faith in 
Jackson as a military man, and perhaps very 
few of them were ever afterwards much surprised 
at his great achievements in war. 

But I have learned that after my time at the 
institute, Jackson became unpopular as a pro- 
fessor through his rigid notions of discipline, 
and his uncompromising enforcement of the 
rules. He was intolerant of neglect of duty, 
inattention to studies, and carelessness at drill 
and thereby became uncongenial, and through 
his eccentricities became an object of the tricks 
and witticisms of idle cadets. 



He was one of the most scrupulously truthful 
men that ever lived, and even carried his exact- 
itude of expression and performance to extremes 
in small matters. 

On one occasion he borrowed the key of the 
library of one of the literary societies, and 
promised the secretary to return it within an 
hour. However, becoming absorbed in his book, 
he put the key in his pocket and did not think 
of it again until he had reached his boarding 
place, in the town, nearly a mile away. Then, 
although a hard storm had sprung up in the 
meantime, he turned about and marched all the 
way back through the rain to deliver the key as 
he had promised, though he knew the library 



18 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

would not be used and the key would not be 
needed on that day. 

In conversation if he ever happened to make 
an ironical remark, even if it were so plainly 
ironical that none could misapprehend it, yet 
would he invariably qualify his expression by 
saying: "Not meaning exactly what I say." 
This peculiarity of speech became almost a by- 
word with the cadets and subjected him to much 
embarrassment, but such was his regard for 
truth that he would not depart from it, even in 
e st, without immediately correcting his state- 
ment. 

He belonged to a literajy society in Lexington 
which embraced in its membership men of learn- 
ing and ability. It was a custom of the society 
to hold a series of public lectures during the 
winter season. This was one of the few enter- 
tainments the cad&ts were permitted to attend, 
and when Major Jackson's turn came to lecture 
there was considerable interest evinced by them, 
in anticipating the subject of his lecture, and 
the manner in which he would acquit himself. 

When he appeared on the lecture platform, he 
was embarrassed, it is true, and his lecture lacked 
in oratorical effect; yet it was said at the time 
to have been one of the best of the whole course, 
and was very entertaining. The subject of his 
discourse was "Acoustics," and he discussed 
very effectively all that was then known about 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 19 

the properties of sound. He said that it was "an 
undeveloped science," and that no doubt in the 
near future progress would be made in it, and 
discoveries, especially in the "transmission of 
sound." This prediction has since been verified 
in the perfecting of the telephone. * * * It 
must be admitted that Major Jackson was re- 
garded by the cadets and others as an eccentric 
man ; either from his impaired health by his ser- 
vice in Mexico, or from some other cause, it 
remains a fact, that he always seemed to be 
more or less sensitive and ill at ease in his inter- 
course with strangers. 

Speaking from a social standpoint, no man 
ever had a more delicate regard for the feelings 
of others than he, and nothing would embarrass 
him more than any contretemps that might occur 
in his presence, to cause pain or distress of mind 
to others. Hence he was truly a polite man, and 
while his manner was often constrained and even 
awkward, yet he would usually make a favorable 
impression through his evident desire to please. 
However, before he became famous in war, he 
was generally underrated by his casual acquaint- 
ances, for in such society he was a taciturn 
man, and would listen in silence, while others 
discoursed at length upon subjects in which he 
was himself well versed. He would thus create 
a false impression of his own acquirements, which 
were very consider ible outside of collegiate 



20 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

learning, and embraced a wide knowledge of men 
and things. 



About the second year of my stay at the Vir- 
ginia Military Institute, Major Jackson was 
suffering from weak eyes and he would not read 
by artificial light. So, when near one of the 
examinations our class had prevailed on him to 
give us a review of a difficult study, he was com- 
pelled to hear us after dark, the only time he 
had to spare for the purpose. We used to meet 
in the "section room" in the dark. Professor 
Jackson sat in front of us on his platform, and 
with closed eyes questioned us over many pages 
of a complicated study. This work required a 
strong effort of memory and concentration of 
thought, and no doubt it was just such exercise 
that fitted him for his duties in the field — in 
holding in his mental grasp the countless details 
that perplex the mind of a commander of armies. 
^ ^ ^ % ^ 

It was one of the marked characteristics of 
Major Jackson that he always inspired confi- 
dence in those who knew him intimately. The 
cadets believed in him as a religious man, 
although, as has been stated, he would sit plac- 
idly and sleep through a greater part of the 
long, tedious sermons of the Presbyterian divine 
in whose church he was an elder. They knew 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 21 

that he slept because of physical weakness, and 
that insincerity was not a part of his nature. 

Governor Letcher, of Virginia, who had been 
familiar with him for a number of years, ap- 
pointed him to a colonelcy at the beginning of 
the war, and he never had a doubt of Jackson's 
capacity to fill any rank in the army, however 
great. 

Major Jackson was married twice; he lost 
his first wife while the writer was still at 
the Military Institute. The Rev. Dr. White, 
the aged minister of the Presbyterian Church, 
oflaciated at the funeral, to which the cadets 
marched as a guard of honor. After the ser- 
vices were over at the grave and the attendants 
had all left the ground except the cadets who 
were forming their ranks at a distance, it 
was noticed that Jackson was standing alone 
with uncovered head by the open grave, as one 
distraught. The venerable clergyman, who was 
a lame man, was compelled to hobble all the way 
back from the gate and lead him away, as he 
would heed none other. 

In the year 1857, after having returned from 
a tour of Europe, Major Jackson was united in 
marriage to Miss Anna Morrison, the daughter 
of a Presbyterian minister of Lincoln County, 
North Carolina. His widow still survives him; 
by this marriage there was one child, a daugh- 
ter, Julia, who lived to womanhood and married 



22 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

a Mr. Christian. This daughter died, leaving 
two children, a son and daughter, as the only 
lineal descendants of "Stonewall" Jackson. 

Mrs. Jackson, the widow of the General, has 
written an interesting life of her husband,which 
dwells especially upon his charming home life 
and religious character. 

* * * * 

Soon after the outbreak of war, the writer 
was ordered to Harper's Ferry to see General 
Jackson on military business, and arrived at his 
office about daybreak, on a morning in May. 
This was his regular office hour when he received 
the reports of his subordinate officers ; and after 
hearing the reports of the officer of the day, the 
officer of the guard, scouts, and others, hew^ould 
dispatch business in a very prompt and ener- 
getic way. He knew exactly what ought to be 
done and how it should be done. There was no 
wavering in opinion, no doubts and misgivings; 
his orders w^ere clear and decisive. It occurred 
to us at the time that Jackson was much more 
in his element here, as an army officer, than when 
in the professor's chair at Lexington. It seemed 
that the sights and sounds of war had aroused 
his energies ; his manner had become brusque 
and imperative ; his face was bronzed from ex- 
posure, his beard was now of no formal style, 
but was worn unshorn. 

What sort of a man is this? They were surely 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 23 

but shallow judges of men who mistook Jackson 
for a fool; yet there were such, who set him 
down as an ill-balanced professor out of his 
groove, and they thought it unsafe to put thous- 
ands of men under his command. This was re- 
peated when he was made a colonel ; it was reit- 
erated when he was made a brigadier,and a ma- 
jor-general, and a lieutenant-general. The fact 
of the matter is, that there were men, even at 
the beginning of the war,who felt assured that 
Jackson was capable of any command ; and his 
career illustrates the justice of this judgment, 
for great as were his commands and mighty as 
were the thunderbolts of war which he hurled 
against opposing columns, he never had a com- 
mand that overtaxed his abilities. It is impos- 
sible to judge of the limitations of a personality 
so unique, or of a force so tremendous as was 
concentrated in the military genius of this offi- 
cer — had he only a force at his command equal 
to the full measure of his capacity. Napoleon 
has said that it was difficult for him to find 
among all his generals one who could command 
a division of ten thousand men and handle them 
as they ought to be maneuvered in a campaign. 
It is the opinion of the writer, who served un- 
der Jackson throughout his career, that he 
would have been more successful as commander- 
in-chief than he was as lieutenant-general ; his 
military character w^as different from that of 



24 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

any other general. If he ever devised any com- 
plicated theory of a campaign, he kept it in his 
own head. The fact is he never divulged his 
plans ; he was always on the ground to direct 
for himself; he knew the topography of the 
country in which he carried on his campaigns 
as well as the people w4io lived there. The old 
inhabitants of a section were often surprised 
when Jackson informed them of roads and paths 
through their country which were forgotten, 
or unknown to them. 

He had his engineer officers plot in their 
charts every natural feature of the region 
about his army, and he absorbed it all from their 
drawings or from actual inspection. He knew 
every ravine, water-course, bridle-path, and 
blind-road of the country in w^hich he carried 
on his operations. The plans of most generals 
consist of many complicated parts, and although 
concocted with consummate ability,some of them 
are sure to fail in the day of battle ; for it is im- 
possible to strike as with one blow,and at the same 
instant, from many different points. The strat- 
egy of Jackson's plans never failed; all his won- 
derful feats were accomplished by rapid march- 
ing; so that the rest of the army used to call our 
command "Jackson's foot-cavalry." He would 
concentrate his forces by rapid movements, day 
and night, and strike at an unexpected point, 
like a thunderbolt. It is singular to consider 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 26 

that while the Union generals knew that Jack- 
son was as swift as the wind, and were always 
making plans that they might guard against 
this, yet he continued to the end of his career 
to take them by surprise, by swinging his forces 
around their flanks,and doubling up the wings of 
their columns and lines of battle, when .they 
had thought he was still serving with his com- 
mand in a distant field. * * * 

And now, thirty-five years after the death of 
Jackson, we can write of his campaigns dispas- 
sionately, since the northern and the southern 
soldier have mingled their blood on battle fields, 
in bearing to victory the "Stars and Strips," 
on a foreign soil. 

And Confederate veterans indorse the senti- 
ments of their heroic commander, General John B. 
Gordon, when three years ago from the rostrum 
in Baltimore, he held forth his hand and said: 

"I extend this old right hand of mine and 
pledge its eternal defense of the glorious flag 
of the Union, the flag of Washington and Jeffer- 
son and Franklin, that now waves over this 
united country." And how true has come his 
prophecy — "And wherever that flag shall wave, 
there will it find the loyal sons of the South ral- 
lying to its support, willing to shed their blood 
and to lay down their lives to make it the sym- 
bol of freedom and equality and brotherhood." 

The memorable deeds of arms, on both sides 



26 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

of the line, in the Civil war, must remain for- 
ever, as a glorious record of the courage and 
manhood of the American soldier. 

Swayed by such sentiment, the victorious le- 
gions of General Grant's army, at Appomattox, 
drew up in line and presented arms to the starv- 
ing, ragged remnant of the Confederate forces, 
as they marched by to lay down the guns they 
had w^ielded with intrepidity for four yeais. 

"The bravest are the tenderest," and the 
manly feeling in the breasts of Grant's veterans 
paid this voluntary tribute of courtesy and 
honor, to the broken ranks of a valorous army, 
overwhelmed and borne down by numbers. 

It was a tradition in the army, that while 
Jackson was stationed at Harper's Ferry, a stran- 
ger, a man of middle age, was observed walking 
through the camp. He fell in conversation with 
the soldiers and asked the name of the command- 
ing officer. When told that Colonel Jackson of 
the Military School at Lexington was in com- 
mand, he said: "O yes, I know him: and I tell 
you men, if this war lasts any time, Jackson will 
be heard from!" and he continued, "I wouldn't 
be surprised to hear that Jackson is the com- 
mander-in-chief before the war is over!" 

The recruits were greatly surprised and also 
pleased at this high praise of their commanding 
officer, from a stranger who seemed to have such 
unbounded confidence in him. But it was 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 27 

thought afterwards that this stranger had served 
with Jackson in Mexico. 

When the writer visited Jackson's camp at 
Harper's Ferry in May 1861, he was at that time 
busily engaged in organizing and drilling his 
troops. He said he was unable to send any of 
his regiments as requested to the relief of Colonel 
Porterfield in Northwestern Virginia; that it 
must be represented to that officer that he him- 
self was in a situation of great danger, as there 
was a force of the enemy within a day's march 
of him, that greatly exceeded his own command. 
He expressed a deep interest in the Northwest, 
as it was his native section, and he always after- 
wards evinced the same interest in that part of 
the state. Indeed, it was his desire that he might 
be sent there in command; but as a soldier, he 
served where ordered without complaint. 

General Joseph E. Johnson now assumed com- 
mand in the Valley Department,and in the early 
encounters along the Potomac, which were skir- 
mishes. Jackson attracted his favorable notice, 
and was appointed a brigadier-general on the 
third of July. But he first attracted public at- 
tention, and even became famous, by the part he 
bore in the battle of First Manassas ; or as it is 
commonly called "Bull Run." 

* * * * ^ 

We shall now recount briefly, the military 
campaigns of General Jackson, touching alone 



28 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

the main features of his brilliant achieve- 
ments. 

Bull Eun is a small stream, twenty miles long, 
forming the boundary line between the counties 
of Fairfax and Prince William, in Virginia. The 
stream runs in a south-easterly direction and falls 
into the Occoquan, a tributary of the Potomac, 
about twenty-five miles from Washington City. 
The turnpike from Centerville, running west- 
ward, crosses the only bridge over Bull Run 
within ten miles of the battlefield. But other 
available crossing places for troops are the fords 
which are to be found at intervals of two or 
three miles, up and down the stream. 

Upon the banks of this stream was fought the 
first important battle of the Civil War, June 21, 
1861. General McDowell, commanding the Union 
forces in front of Washington, leaving General 
Runyon with five thousand men to guard his com- 
munications with the rear, advanced with thir- 
ty-five thousand troops of all arms, to attack 
General Beauregard, who had twenty thousand 
Confederates posted for eight miles along the 
west side of Bull Run. Gen. Joseph E. Johnston 
with about eighteen thousand men was stationed 
at Winchester, fifty miles northwest, where he 
was watched by General Patterson with about 
an equal number. 

General Johnston, learning of the advance, 
hastened with eleven thousand men to reinforce 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 29 

Beauregard, while the rest of his army remained 
to confront Patterson. The day before the battle 
Johnston reached Manassas with six thousand 
men, the remainder to come up the next day, 
when part did arrive about two o'clock in the 
afternoon. 

Before daybreak on the twenty-first of July 
McDowell sent Burnside's division to cross the 
stream above, to move down on the west side, 
turn the Confederate left, and clear the bridge 
v^hich was defended by an abatis, in order to 
cross the remainder of his troops. 

This movement was successful ; Burnside 
was checked only for a short time, on the high 
ground at Young's branch, a brook which falls 
into Bull Run. But here, reinforced by Sykes' 
regulars and the brigades of Sherman and Por- 
ter, he drove the Confederates in confusion al- 
most to the edge of the plateau. 

It was now noon ; the bridge was taken, and 
McDowell could cross all the troops he needed. 
The battle was practically lost to the Confeder- 
ates; seven-thousand of them were falling back 
in confusion before the advancing eighteen-thou- 
sand directed by McDowell. At this juncture, 
Jackson with five regiments was advancing in 
the center, while the whole Confederate left-wing 
was hurled back upon him. Among the latter 
troops was the South Carolina Brigade, com- 
manded by General Bee. That officer rode up 



30 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

to Jackson's Brigade and shouted: "General, 
they're beating us back!" Jackson replied, 
sternly: "Then we will give them the bayo- 
net!" This inspired General Bee : he rode back 
to his troops, and with his drawn sword pointed, 
exclaimed: "Rally men, on the Virginians! 
There stands Jackson like a stone wall!" 

They did rally on the Virginians, but their 
heroic commander fell among the slain ; yet, 
with his dying breath, he had christened Jack- 
son and his Brigade with the fame and name of 
"Stonewall," which lives in history. 

This check given to McDowell's victorious 
advance by Jackson, enabled Johnston and Beau- 
regard to hasten up all their available reinforce- 
meats, which after a desperate engagement of 
several hours, turned the tide of battle, and 
resulted in the rout of Bull Run. 

***** 

Jackson said, the sobriquet, "Stonewall," was 
won in battle by his brigade, and that it did not 
belong to him, but should be applied to the 
"Stonewall Brigade," which consisted of the 
Second, Fourth, Fifth, Twenty-seventh, and 
Thirtj^-third regiments of Virginia Volunteer 
Infantry. 

From the prominent part he had taken in the 
battle of Manassas, Jackson was promoted to the 
rank of major-general on the 7th of October; 
and several Wcieks thereafter, he was ordered to 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 81 

proceed to Winchester to take command in the 
Valley of Virginia. 

And now he must part with "his brave old 
Brigade." They were drawn up in line, and in 
a brief speech he feelingly reviewed the bril- 
liant achievements of these regiments, and bade 
them an affectionate farewell. But they were 
not to be long separated, for a few weeks later 
they were again assigned to his command and 
served under him until he fell at Chancellors- 
ville. 

***** 

On the first day of January 1862, Jackson 
having been joined at Winchester by General 
Loring's brigade, and having then under his 
command about eight thousand five hundred 
men, projected an expedition against Romney, 
and other posts in the South Branch Valley. 

The weather was mild when his troops 
marched out of Winchester, but the following 
day it suddenly changed to be very severe, and 
with the sleet and snow, the roads became al- 
most impassable. His supply trains were unable 
to keep up with the moving column, and for 
several nights his men were compelled to biv- 
ouac in the open air, and endured great suffer- 
ing. 

There was a conflict of authority between 
Jackson and Loring, and although Jackson suc- 
ceeded in gaining possession temporarily of 



32 STONEWALL JACKSON, 

Romney and the Valley, without great loss in the 
skirmishes that followed, nevertheless, the en- 
terprise was generally considered a failure. 

General Jackson with his own immediate com- 
mand fell back to Winchester, but left General 
Loring with the greater part of the force, in win- 
ter quarters near Romney. General Loring pro- 
tested to the War Department that his 
situation was hazardous and unnecessary and 
demanded that he be returned to Winchester. 
Jackson received an order from the Secre- 
tary of War directing him to withdraw Lor- 
ing's brigade to Winchester. This order he 
promptly complied with ; but he immediately 
sent his own resignation to the Secretary, say- 
ing : 

"With such interference with my command, I 
cannot expect to be of much service in the 
field!" 

But there was such a howl of protest from 
the public, at the thought of losing the services 
of Jackson, that the Secretary was alarmed ; and 
through the intercession of General Johnston 
and Govenor Letcher of Virginia, Jackson was 
induced to withdraw his resignation. After this, 
his military operations in the field were never 
directed from the War office in Richmond ! 
^ * * ^ * 

At Kerntown on the 23rd of March 1862, Gen- 
eral Jackson attacked a superior force under 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 33 

General Shields. The action commenced about 
3 p. m. and lasted until dark. His men fought 
desperately, but were compelled to fall back, 
under the attack of the heavy columns that were 
hurled against him. This is said to have been 
the only instance in which "Stonewall" Jack- 
son was ever repulsed. But long afterwards, 
when the war was over, the writer remembers 
to have heard General Shields, in a speech at In- 
dependence, Missouri, make this remark : "It 
has been said, that I am the only officer who 
ever whipped Stonewall Jackson ! Now I 
have only this to say, if I am the only officer 
who ever whipped old Stonewall — he was never 
whipped at all!" 

This was the testimony of General James 
Shields, who after receiving a bullet through the 
lungs, in fighting for the flag in Mexico, lived 
to fight for the Union, if it may be, still more 
gallantly in the Civil War. 

***** 

In the early part of May, and at the begin- 
ning of Jackson's Valley campaign which has 
been called the most brilliant of the whole war, 
the positions of the Confederate forces were as 
follows : 

General Edward Johnson with about thirty- 
five hundred men was at West View, seven miles 
west of Staunton. This command on the 13th of 
December 1861, had fought and won a decisive 



34 STONEWALL JACKSOISr. 

battle on the top of the Alleghany mountains, but 
had moved to its present position, to be in touch 
of reinforcements. G-eneral Jackson to the aston- 
ishment of all, now suddenly appeared in 
Staunton with his immediate command of six 
thousand men. General Ewell, with an equal 
number was hastening from near Gordonsville, 
to take Jackson's place at Swift Run Gap, in or- 
der to threaten the flank and rear of General 
Bank's main command, which was stationed at 
Harrisonburg. General Milroy, with the ad- 
vance of General Fremont's corps, six thousand 
strong, was hastening to attack Johnson's feeble 
force and thus capture Staunton :while Fremont 
with eighteen thousand men was moving up the 
South Branch to Milroy's aid. 

The rapid and devious movement of Jackson's 
troops mystified exerj one, both friend and 
foe; it was impossible to conjecture his plans. 
Behind the screen of his cavalry, he would move 
his infantry twenty-five or thirty miles a day, 
often marching far into the night. Thus, through- 
out this campaign the position of his army was 
not determinable; it might be here, it might be 
there, or it might be a hundred miles away ! 

He gave his troops a rest of one day in Staun- 
ton, then continuing his march, joined John- 
son's force, drove in Milroy's pickets and for- 
aging parties, and camped twenty-five miles 
west, on the turnpike. The next morning he 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 35 

hastened forward Johnson's brigade which took 
possession on Sitlingfcon's Hill, a position that 
commanded the village of McDowell, and the 
camp of Milroy's forces. Following more de- 
liberately w4th the main body, Jackson deployed 
a sufficient force, which by making a detour, 
would be able to gain the road in the rear of the 
enemy, by midnight. 

On the afternoon of this day, May 8th, Mil- 
roy attacked in force, the position occupied by 
Johnson's brigade. The latter, reinforced by a 
regiment from Jackson's command, repulsed ev- 
ery assault made upon ic, though the battle raged 
fiercely, until after nightfall. The loss was se- 
vere on both sides. The full moon arose and 
looked dow^n on the ghastly scene, on the moun- 
tain top; Johnson, the wounded commander of 
the Confederates was carried from the field. But 
the battle ceased not, until the whole front of 
the ridge occupied by the 12th Georgia and 31st 
Va. regiments (the part of the field of which we 
can speak from observation) was strewn with 
the slain. 

General Milroy, suspecting a flank movement 
to his rear, sometime after dark withdrew. He 
left his camp fires burning brightly, which de- 
ceived the confederates, but in the morning his 
w^hole force had vanished. He marched all 
night and reached Franklin in Pendleton County, 
twenty-four miles distant, where early in the 



36 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

day he met the whole of Fremont's command 
advancing. 

Jackson followed rapidly Milroy's retreat to 
that place, but after coming up with him and 
discovering the reinforcement, he did not think 
it prudent to join battle. 

He turned aside, and rested his troops for a 
day in a pleasant valley ; here religious ser- 
vices were held to give thanks for the victory 
won at McDowell. The soldiers, long after, 
w^ould recur to this scene ; the valley, through 
which ran a sparkling stream, was inclosed by 
lofty hills, and clothed in the verdure of Spring. 
Services were held in nearly every regiment, and 
Jackson and his stalT officers joined in the devo- 
tions. * * * 

* * ^Jackson, uninterrupted by Fremont, con- 
tinued his march, and in ten days following, 
covered a distance of one hundeed and ten miles. 
This brought him to Front Royal, in Warren 
County, and within eighty-four miles of Wash- 
ington City. Here on the 23rd of May, he at- 
tacked the federal forces, capturing a large 
amount of stores and gaining possession of the 
bridge near by, over the Shenandoah. He had 
now turned the flank and was threatening the 
communications of Banks' large army at Stras- 
burg. The latter hastily retreated to Winches- 
ter. 

At Front Royal, Jackson's army rested for a 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 87 

few hours; next day, marching forward it de- 
bouched into the valley pike at Middletown, in 
the midst of the stragglers and trains of Banks' 
retreat. Capturing everything at hand, he 
pressed forward, and in the afternoon came up 
with the rear-guard of the main command, 
which was driven before him all that night. 

The next morning, the 25th of May, Banks' 
army, hastily drawn up in line of battle at Win- 
chester, was attacked by Jackson's advance. 
The resistance at first was determined, but 
Jackson's regiments, as fast as they arrived on 
the scene, engaged in the action. Soon, Banks' 
lines were broken; his brigades and regiments 
were disorganized, and thrown back in wild con- 
fusion. Then began the race for the Potomac, 
the confederates following in not much better 
order, but flushed and elated with the joy of 
victory. 

The people of Winchester were zealous in their 
attachment to the South, and were wrought up 
with excitment, as the confederate troops raced 
through their streets, in pursuit of Banks The 
ladies, in their enthusiasm, ran from the houses, 
bearing platters and baskets of biscuits, sweet- 
cakes and flowers; also pitchers of water — a 
grateful boon to the over-heated, dust-choked 
infantry. It was a scene never to be forgotten. 

Banks' army was reformed on the north side 
of the Potomac. Jackson, after the pursuit of 



38 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

a few miles, rested his exhausted troops at Win- 
chester. In the brief sp-dee of two days, he had 
driven Banks' army a distance of fifty miles or 
more, from Front Eoyal and Strasburg to the 
Potomac. The results of the victory were great, 
and should have been greater, but the cavalry 
in pursuit were unable to resist the temptations 
of the spoils of war, that appealed so invitingly 
to the overworked horsemen, all along the way; 
thus it happened they were not on hand at the 
critical moment, when Banks' lines were broken. 

Jackson captured here, three-thousand pris- 
oners ; also immense wagon-trains laden with 
quartermaster, commissary, ordnance and medical 
stores. 

The afternoon of the day following was given 
to religious services in the camp, in returning 
thanks for the victory. The third day Jackson 
marched down to Harper's Ferry and bombarded 
Bank's forces across the Potomac. The alarm 
had been sounded in Washington and this move- 
ment increased the panic. 

Although Jackson had now only about fifteen 
thousand men for duty, the federal forces were 
hurried from all sides, to intercept his march to 
the capital. 

McClellan was ordered to stop for the present 
his operations in front of Richmond, and dispatch 
twenty-thousand men for the Shenandoah. Fre- 
mont, Shields and Banks were all gathering their 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 39 

forces and hurrying forward with the same pur- 
pose. 

After the victory at Winchester, Jackson did 
in fact appeal to tlie authorities at Richmond, 
that his command might be increased to forty- 
thousand men, w^ith wliich he proposed to move 
on Washington. But the request was not granted. 

The writer was near the spot, where Jackson 
was personally directing the operations of a 
battery which was firing on Banks across the 
Potomac. A courier rode up in hot haste, bear- 
ing a dispatch from Ashby, the tenor of which 
we could only judge from what occurred after- 
wards. Jackson very deliberately ordered the 
battery to "cease firing and limber up." The 
brigade of infantry which w^as resting on the 
road side, was directed to begin its return march 
up the valley. 

This retrograde movement was begun with 
the usual expedition of 'Jackson's foot cavalry'; 
when our brigade came to the Capon Springs 
road, and had turned aside, and marched along 
it for a mile or so, w^e met the advance of Fre- 
monts army. We became hotly engaged, and so 
continued to harass their march, and to hold in 
check their column, until Jackson's main com- 
mand had passed up the valley pike. 

Sending forward his prisoners and captured 
trains, laden with all the munitions of war, Jack- 
son marched sixty miles in three days, when he 



40 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

arrived at Strasburg, the key to the situation. 
Here, he passed out from between the converging 
lines of three armies that were bearing down 
upon him. His cavalry had burned the bridges 
on the lower Shenandoah and Shields was thus 
compelled to continue his march up the east 
bank. 

Jackson reached Harrisonburg on the 5th of 
June ; here he changed his course and marched 
towards Port Republic. Fremont was follow- 
ing close after, apparently anxious to give 
battle. The skirmishing between his advance 
and Ashby's cavalry was continuous; and that 
lamented officer fell on the 6th of June, while 
leading a charge near Cross Keys. Jackson, in 
his official report, in writing of Ashby, said :"As 
a partisan officer, I never knew his superior." 
Leaving Ewell's divison, only eight thousand 
strong, on the ridge at Cross Keys to resist the 
advance of Fremont's eighteen thousand, Jackson 
hastened to Port Republic with the remainder 
of his small force, and planted his cannon on the 
heights commanding the bridge, the only ap- 
proach available for Shields. 

On the 8th of June, Fremont attacked Ewell's 
division at Cross Keys in force ; but despite the 
disparity of numbers, the latter held his ground 
all that day, and at night withdrew, and by 
daylight had united his command with that of 
Jackson at the bridge of Port Republic. Cross- 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 41 

ing with his united force, Jackson attacked, at 
nine o'clock, Shield's army, three-thousand 
strong, advancing on that side. It was defeated 
and driven back with heavy loss. At this junc- 
ture, Fremont with his whole force appeared 
on the opposite bank, but the bridge was then 
in flames and he made no attempt to cross. 

Jackson rested his troops in camp the next 
day, but Fremont and Shields retiring from the 
conflict, retreated down the valley. 

The Confederates then moved out into the 
beautiful valley near Weyer's Cave where they 
encamped and services were held,returning thanks 
for victories won. Thus ended the Valley Cam- 
paign of 1862. With a force never exceeding 
sixteen thousand, Jackson had for months foiled 
and held in check the corps commanded by Mc 
Dowell, Fremont, Banks and Shields. 

Great as were the achievements of Jackson 
in his subsequent, brief career , his after deeds 
could scarcely augment the renown he had won 
in the Valley Campaign. His surprisingly ag- 
gressive movements, the daring of his strategy, 
marked by the prevision and forecast of events 
that enabled him often to circumvent the enemy, 
were his characteristics. Military experts now 
began to rate him as an executive officer almost 
without a peer among his contemporaries. 
* * * ^ * 

At the close of Jackson's valley campaign, 



42 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

General McClellan was drawing his lines about 
Richmond. General Lee who was now in com- 
mand, resolved to concentrate his forces and to 
take the initiative in an attack, as Richmond, 
on account of the lack of supplies, was not in a 
condition to withstand a siege. In order to 
mask the movement of Jackson from the valley, 
several thousand troops were sent, with consider- 
able display, to reinforce him. 

Jackson left his camp near Mt. Meridian on the 
17th of June ; but his destination was unknown 
even to the men of his command, until he ap- 
peared at Ashland, on the evening of the 25th 
inst. The next day he passed around the right 
flank of McClellan's army at Mechanicsville, and 
on the 27th at Gaines' Mills drove his right 
wing back upon the center, capturing camps, 
military stores, and many prisoners. Here a 
federal captain who was captured with his com- 
pany, and not knowing that Jackson's men were 
his captors, said to us : 

"Well boys you've got the best of us to-day, 
but you haven't heard the news from Jackson 
in the valley ; his whole command has been 
broken up ! I was reading about it in the New 
York paper, just as you fellows charged into 
our camp ! ' ' 

When the captain had learned the facts in the 
case, he was dumb with astonishment. 

In the bloody "seven days battle" around 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 43 

Richmond, Jackson's Corps bore a conspiciioiis 
part; however, he was not now in independent 
command, but was subject to the orders of his 
chief, and was only one of many. 

After the battles were over, Jackson's com- 
mand camped for a few dajs near Richmond ; on 
the next Sunday he attended services at one of 
the Presbyterian churches in the city ; but he was 
not known to the citizens by sight, and attracted 
no special attention. 

However, they were annoyed, when they had 
learned from a soldier, that the officer on a rear 
seat was the famous "Stonewall" who had 
come and gone unnoticed of them. 

* ->V -vV ^c % 

The return march now began towards the Val- 
ley and on the 19th of July Jackson's Corps to 
reached Gordonsville. His soldiers were glad to 
breathe again the mountain air : but hundreds 
of their comrades had fallen in the "seven days 
battles," in the swamps of the Chickahominy. 

A few days later the camp was moved into 
the county of Louisa, near by, where the troops 
were recuperated somewhat by a quiet rest. 
But this was not to last, for General Pope, now 
in command of the federal forces in this depart- 
ment, was assembling at Culpepper Courthouse 
and uniting in one body the commands that had 
fought against Jackson in the Valley. He had 
in all more than fifty thousand men, and de- 



44 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

clared by proclamation that "his head-quarters 
would be in his saddle." 

Jackson was reinforced by the division of A. 
P. Hill and did not await the onset from Pope, 
but moved against him, and the 9th of August 
they joined battle at Cedar Mountain. It was 
late in the afternoon of that day, before the en- 
gagement became general. Pope was repulsed, 
but at the beginning of the battle Jackson con- 
tended against great odds and his left wing was 
swung back ; this, however, he quickly re-estab- 
lished by reinforcements coming ap. A charge 
of federal cavalry also bore down in gallant 
style upon this wing, but they were dispersed 
with great loss, by the steady fire of artillery 
and infantry. Darkness closed the bloody 
drama. Pope, according to his reports, had about 
thirty-two thousand men engaged in this battle, 
while Jackson's forces were at least ten thous- 
and less ; but the latter had seized the mountain 
heights where he had planted his cannon and 
occupied an almost impregnable position. The 
confederates captured four hundred prisoners , 
including one general, and fifteen hundred 
small-arms and other ordnance stores. 

On the thirteenth of August, Lee began the 
movement of his army, from in front of Rich- 
mond, to the vicinity of Gordonsville ; McClel- 
lan was evacuating the peninsula, and removing 
his troops to the Potomac. 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 45 

Pope withdrew his command to the north side 
of the Rappahannock; Jackson, in the advance 
of Lee, skirmished for several days with his 
lines, along the upper waters of that river. 
Then, when the main body was well up to the 
front, Jackson made a detour with his corps 
and Stuart's cavalry in order to gain the rear of 
the enemy. He marched fifty miles in two days 
and struck Pope's lines at Bristow and Manassas 
Junction, capturing or destroying the main sup- 
plies of his army, and immense stores of the quar- 
termaster and commissary departments fell into 
his hands. There was sharp fighting at both 
places, and Jackson captured several hundred 
prisoners. His presence in the rear of the en- 
emy was now known, and his army occupied a 
position of extreme peril ; his safety lay in fall- 
ing back upon Thoroughfare Gap, and awaiting 
reinforcements from Longstreet. He moved 
first towards Centerville, and then turning west 
marched a mile beyond the old battlefield of 
Manassas where he found, in the abandoned 
railroad cuts, excellent fortifications made to 
hand. Posting his men behind these, he was 
attacked by Pope in force, but was soon rein- 
forced by Longstreet, and here began the bloody 
battle of Second Manassas, which was waged 
for two days and resulted in the defeat of Pope's 
army. 

On the night of September 2nd,Jacrkson made 



46 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

a reconnoisance in force, as far as Ox Hill near 
Chantilly where an encounter took place, in 
which the Union generals, Stevens and Kear- 
ney, were killed. This was within twenty miles 
of Washington City, and the authorities were so 
apprehensive of an attack upon the capital, that 
the whole army was withdrawn behind the fort- 
ifications of the city. ***** 

General Lee now proposed to invade Mary- 
land. Jackson's corps,on September 5th forded 
the Potomac at White's Ferry and after destroy- 
ing the navigation of the canal by breaking the 
lock-gates, continued its march to Frederick City. 
Lee, with the whole command, joined it here, 
four days later. 

The graphic incident which gave rise to the 
poem of "Barbara Frietchie" was said to have oc- 
curred on Jackson's entrance into the city. But 
now it is known there was no occurrence of the 
kind, for "Barbara Frietchie", the principal 
actor in the scene, was then ninety-six years old, 
bed-ridden, and unable to wave a flag; and be- 
sides, Jackson's march did not lead him past her 
resi dence. Nevertheless, the poem is a beautiful 
one, and will live. 

The large Union forces still left in the vicinity 
of Harper's Ferry threatened Lee's communica- 
tions, and Jackson's corps was directed against 
that place. He left Frederick, September 10th, and 
by rapid marches by the way of Martinsburg, 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 47 

reached there, and invested that fortification, 
within four days. 

With great effort, Jackson succeeded in plant- 
ing artillery on the surrounding heights ; and on 
the 15th inst, after a furious bombardment, the 
garrison was compelled to surrender. Jackson 
captured, besides the garrison stores and arma- 
ment, eleven thousand prisoners of war. 

Lee, in the meantime, had withdrawn his 
army from Frederick, on the approach of the 
whole Union army,under McClellan,who had been 
reinstated in chief command. He fell back to 
Sharpsburg, behind the Antietam Creek, ten 
miles north of Harper's Ferry, where in a strong 
position, he awaited the attack of McClellan. 

This was necessary as his army was greatly 
reduced; thousands of his men were left along 
the way, worn out through privation of rest and 
food. Many were without shoes, and could not 
keep up in the long marches over the stony 
roads. General Lee estimated that his army had 
been reduced to forty thousand men. 

Jackson leaving a small guard at Harper's 
Ferry, with orders to parole the prisoners he had 
captured there, hastened to rejoin Lee, He ar- 
rived on the field about noon of the 16th inst., 
in time ■ to take part in resisting the assault 
made against the left wing. 

The next day, September 17,- 1862, has been 
called "the bloodiest day in American history;" 



48 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

for then was fought the great battle of Antie- 
tam. 

At daybreak, Hooker's corps opened the bat- 
tle by a furious assault directed against Lee's 
left wing. Jackson's veterans were here, borne 
back for nearly half a mile before this fearful 
onset; but receiving reinforcements, he again 
advanced, sweeping before him Hooker's and 
Mansfield's corps, regaining the ground he had 
lost. The gallant veteran, Mansfield, here fell. 

Thus with wavering fortunes, the battle raged 
throughout the day. Night ended the conflict 
with both armies concentrated and confronting 
each other on the west side of the Antietam. 

On the 18th the armies maintained a truce to 
bury the dead. McClellan during the day re- 
ceived large reinforcements, and it was said he 
purposed to renew^ the engagement the next 
day. By that time, Lee had withdrawn across 
the Potomac. * * * 

* * ^Jackson's corps rested near Bunker Hill, 
twelve miles below Winchester, for several weeks. 
A needed respite for his war-worn veterans, who 
were really destitute of most of the appoint- 
ments of a well-equipped army; even clothing 
and shoes were scarce. 

While in this camp near Winchester, Jack- 
son received his last promotion, on the 11th 
of November. In about eighteen months he had 
arisen from the rank of colonel, to that of lieu- 
tenant-general. 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 49 

Burnside was now placed in command of the 
Union Army and immediately began the advance 
on Fredericksburg, on the Rappahannock. Lee 
hastened to confront him, and took position on 
the river hills. Jackson's command marched 
from Winchester to rejoin Lee, and reached his 
position near the center of his lines not far from 
Hamilton's crossing, within eight days. He was 
compelled to halt and rest his men for two days, 
as some of them were without shoes. 

Jackson's corps was encamped here for about 
two weeks before the battle. 

Burnside's plan as developed, was to cross by 
three pontoon-bridges near Fredericksburg and 
three more at a point about three miles below. 
The construction of these bridges was interfered 
with somewhat, by the sharp-shooters; but it 
was no part of Lee's plan to prevent the cross- 
ing. 

The night preceding the battle was consumed 
by Jackson's troops in moving up from their 
camp, several miles below ; we, however, had an 
hour of rest before forming our line of battle. 
Our position was midway between Fredericks- 
burg and the right of the lines, with a wide ex- 
tent of plain in front. 

It was perhaps, as late as nine o'clock on the 
13th before the fog rolled back and revealed 
Burnside's forces in position on the south side. 
His lines extended along the first and second 



50 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

benches of the river bottom, while in front were 
planted his numberless field batteries. 

This stern array — a hundred thousand strong, 
deployed in three lines of battle, of two ranks 
each — now marched forward in stately pomp, 
with banners waving and bands playing. Then 
the heavy siege guns thundered from the Staf- 
ford heights, sending shot and shell, plow- 
ing our ranks ; while the great columns of 
the reserves crowded the passageways to the 
bridges. ^ * ^ 

* * * Never before had we looked on a 
panorama of battle so wide and unobstructed by 
forests as this view on the field of Fredericks- 
burg; and as we gazed on the mighty host 
marching into action, we felt the scene awe-in- 
spiring in its terrible grandeur. 

In this engagement Jackson's command was 
advanced beyond its position in the line of bat- 
tle to a point where our lines had been pene- 
trated by Mead's Corps. Here the fighting was 
stubborn and long continued, but Jackson's men 
sustaining their great reputation, finally suc- 
ceeded in regaining the lost ground, and in re-es- 
tablishing the line, but at the cost of many lives. 

Burnside's forces were repulsed at all points; 
he made the most determined assaults against 
Marye's Heights, which was Lee's strongest 
position ; here, whole brigades were destroyed in 
the reckless charges. 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 51 

The battle was fought on Saturday, and on 
Sunday the armies lay quiet, each awaiting the 
attack of the other. On Monday there was a 
truce to care for the wounded and bury the 
dead. That night, under the cover of darkness 
and storm, Burnside withdrew across the river 
and removed his pontoons. 

Thus ended the Virginia campaign of 
1862. * * * 

* "^ * Jackson's command went into winter 
quarters along the Rappahannock and did 
picket duty as far down as Port Royal ; his 
headquarters were at Moss Neck, about eleven 
miles below Fredericksburg. Here he occupied 
a small office in which he was engaged nearly 
all winter in making out official reports of his 
battles, and in directing the various duties in 
regard to supplies, discipline, and the recruit- 
ing of his corps. He was busy, but was some- 
times interrupted in his work by visits of 
personal friends whom he always received kindly 
and with scrupulous politeness. Occasionally a 
foreign officer called to pay his respects, and was 
impressed by Stonewall's simplicity of manners 
and genuine courtesy. His family spent a few 
days with him this winter; then he first saw his 
infant daughter. 

This was but the lull amid the storm of war, 
and as the season approached for the opening of 
the campaign, Jackson prepared to leave his 



52 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

pleasant winter quarters. He moved about the 
middle of March to Hamilton's crossing where 
he occupied a tent. 

Hooker had now replaced Burnside in com- 
mand of the Army of the Potomac, and bj the 
end of April he was ready for the campaign with 
a force 132,000 strong. His army lay in camp 
on the left bank of the Rappahannock opposite 
Fredericksburg; the Confederates were in- 
trenched on the heights across the river. This 
position Hooker thought was unassailable from 
the front, and he undertook to turn the left 
flank and so fall upon our rear. In the mean- 
while he sent about 12,000 cavalry on an expedi- 
tion to cut our communications with Richmond. 
On the 27th he sent the greater part of three 
army corps on a long detour, 27 miles above to 
Kelly's ford, there to cross, move down and un- 
cover the fords below. When this was done the 
several commands were to move by different 
routes on Chancellorsville which was the place 
of rendezvous. This he accomplished with great 
skill and energy, and by the SOth he had an 
army of 48,000 men witli 18,000 more a few 
hours behind, fortified at Chancellorsville in an 
impregnable position in the very heart of the 
wilderness. Hence, General Hooker from 
military considerations was justified in his pre- 
diction when he said: "The enemy must in- 
gloriously fly or come out from behind his in- 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 53 

trenchments and give us battle on our own 
ground, where certain destruction awaits him." 

But in his plans, perhaps, he had not made a 
just allowance for the genius of Stonewall 
Jackson. 

It is a tradition that one of his officers re- 
marked on this occasion: "We seem to have 
the rebs this time, and a sure victory — only I 
don't know where old Stonewall is — he might 
break in behind us here and spoil all this !" 

Lee was aware that his left flank had been 
turned and that Hooker was in his rear with a 
force fully equal to his own. He ordered Early 
with 10,000 men to hold the heights at 
Fredericksburg ; and with the remaining forces 
hastened to confront Hooker at Chanceilorsville. 
Jackson's main force w^as 20 miles distant; he 
began to move at midnight and by 11 o'clock 
next day, May 1, he w^as drawn up in line of bat- 
tle in front of the Wilderness. 

Hooker, who had begun to move out into the 
open ground where he could handle his troops, 
now fell back behind his fortification of logs at 
Chanceilorsville. He said the ways were nar- 
row and he could not debouch from the woods 
rapidly enough to confront Lee, but would run 
the risk of being whipped in detail while filing 
from the narrow wood-roads. 

That night Lee and Jackson camped together 
in the woods ; they laid themselves down to rest 



54 STOXEWALL JACKSON. 

upon the leaves with the pine-trees for covering. 
Their consultation was long, and anxiously did 
they discuss the critical situation of the armies. 
They both agreed that it was necessary to at- 
tack Hooker at once or all would be lost. They 
also agreed that an attack made in front on his 
stronghold would be very destructive to their 
troops, and would probably fail. A cavalry re- 
connoisance had disclosed the exposed situation 
of the Union right, and now they resolved to at- 
tack there. 

To do this the Confederate force must be 
divided. Jackson with 30,000 men was to move 
by a forest road, known to him, entirely around 
the Union position and attack in the rear. 

Lee, while Jackson was making his flank 
movement, was to keep up a show in front with 
only 20,000 men; it was a hazardous venture, 
warranted only by the desperate nature of the 
situation. 

Jackson moved at daybreak — on this, the last 
day, he was to lead troops in battle — he made a 
circuit of 15 miles, sheltered from view by the 
thick undergrowth, except at one point where 
the road bore southward, and where his move- 
ment, if noticed, would be taken as a retreat. 

By three o'clock in the afternoon he was six 
miles west of Chancellorsville, and on the op- 
posite side of Hooker from the position held by 
Lee. He halted here in an open space to form 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 55 

his lines; while his scouts pushing forward 
through the thickets discovered the Union in- 
trenchments unguarded; the arms were stacked, 
the men preparing their evening meal. 

Jackson formed his force in three parallel 
lines with their centers resting on the narrow 
wood-road, down which two batteries were to 
move. About five o'clock the advance was be- 
gun ; the line in front breaking its way through 
the thicket, the others following with a little 
less difficulty. 

An hour later they burst upon the Union 
ranks like an avalanche— all was wild confusion! 
The first regiments on whom the shock fell scat- 
tered without firing a shot, while the whole 
corps soon broke in disorder, leaving everything 
behind them, swarming down the road to within 
a half mile of Chancellorsville. The Confeder- 
ates were stayed for a brief space by the horse- 
artillery of Pleasanton's cavalry reinforced by 
other guns, but this battery in turn was hurled 
back ; and the onset was only delayed by the 
darkness and confusion— awaiting a reconnois- 

sance. 

At this critical moment Jackson rode to the 
front to learn the situation of affairs, and on re- 
turning to his lines he was fired on by his own 
men who mistook his escort for enemies. He 
received three wounds which proved fatal a 
week later. Several of his escorts were killed or 



56 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

wounded by the same volley. As he was being car- 
ried from the field one of the litter bearers fell, and 
Jackson was thrown to the ground, falling upon 
his wounded shoulder; this aggravated his inju- 
ries and together with the loss of blood he had 
sustained, he was now almost in a dying condi- 
tion. 

General Hooker was also wounded on this day, 
but retained his command. 

Jackson was succeeded by General J. E. B. 
Stuart, of the cavalry, and he had orders from 
Lee to press the advantages gained ; this was 
done on all sides with this result; — at the end of 
three days more. Hooker's whole command of 
superior numbers had retired to the north side 
of the Rappahannock, and the battle of Chan- 
cellorsville had ended. 

As soon as possible, the wounded Jackson was 
conveyed in an ambulance to Guinea's Station; 
this was a painful journey for a suffering man. 
The surgeons did everything to relieve him, but 
in vain. His wife, with infant daughter, was 
summoned to his bedside. He remained cheer- 
ful and was informed of the final success of his 
flank movement at Chancellorsville. He died as 
he had lived, a Christian without fear of death. 
His last words were: "Let us cross over the 
river, and rest under the shade of the trees." 

Above we have given a concise presentation 
of the principal movements of Jackson in the 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 57 

course of his brilliant career ; we shall now 

conclude these personal recollections, with a few 

anecdotes to illustrate further his characteristics. 

■5t * ^v % * 

As the war progressed and his fame grew 
apace, whenever he would appear riding along 
the lines of infantry, on his chestnut-sorrel horse, 
clad m his old, faded uniform, the loud cheers 
of his soldiers would follow him for miles along 
the dusty roads. 

He was a good rider, but not a very graceful 
one except on the occasions mentioned, when the 
soldiers were cheering ; then he would straighten 
himself in his saddle and ride erect with uncov- 
ered head and at a rapid pace, as if to escape 
this ovation of his troops. 

On one occasion in the "Valley campaign," as 
our troops debouched from a narrow cross-road 
into the turnpike, we saw a carriage drawn up 
by the wayside, in which were seated an elderly 
gentleman and three young ladies. As we rode 
by the old gentleman halted us and inquired 
anxiously for General Jackson. It at first oc- 
curred to us that he had news of importance to 
communicate to the general, but the young 
ladies soon made it apparent that their only 
object in being in that dangerous place was to 
look upon this now famous officer whom they 
had never seen. They paid but little heed to 
any otherofficer or soldier of the passing column. 



58 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

The old man "only wanted to see Jackson 
once before he died," and the young ladies were 
"just crazy to see him!" 

Soon thereafter a post quartermaster rode by; 
his bright uniform presented a striking contrast 
to the dust begrimed regimentals of the officers 
of the column, and the young ladies "were sure 
this fine-looking officer must be the great 'Stone- 
wall,' " the hero of their imaginations. 

Finally, when General Jackson did appear on 
the scene, it was difficult to make these ladies 
believe that the travel stained horseman, with 
his faded cap drawn low over his sunburned, 
bearded face, was the famous "Stonewall" whose 
name had wrought so great a spell in that valley. 

And the prestige of his fame must linger there 
forever ; for however much one may insist that 
he committed a great political error in yielding 
paramount allegiance to his State, yet none at 
this day will doubt that he did so conscientiously 
and religiously believing that he was absolutely 
right. Therefore, as a great soldier performing 
deeds of valor with consummate skill in the line 
of his duty as he saw it, he will remain to mili- 
tary men the world over, and in American his- 
tory, a figure of perennial interest. * * 
* * * From that day when at the battle of 
Bull Run General Bee pointed his sword and 
said: "See, there is Jackson standing like a 
stone- wall," and from which saying he won his 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 59 

sobriquet, Jackson was ever wont to give the 
glory of victory to the Lord, and to deprecate 
any applauding of victorious generals. Mrs. 
Jackson in her "Life" says: "General D. H. 
Hill relates that in the last conversation he ever 
held with him, Jackson said : *The manner in 
which the press, the army, and the people seem 
to lean on certain persons is positively frightful. 
They are forgetting God in the instruments He 
has chosen. It fills me with alarm.' " 

Jackson was a consistent Christian man, he 
was a constant attendant on preaching and as a 
matter of duty he taught a class of negro chil- 
dren in the Sunday School at Lexington. 

He systematically gave to the extent of his 
limited means, to every benevolent object. In 
illustration of this trait of his character, it is 
related that when the news reached Lexington 
of the victory of Manassas, it was reported that 
the Rev. Dr. White had received a letter from 
Jackson, and the people gathered around to hear 
the particulars of the battle. 

The venerable preacher mounted on a store- 
box, arranged his spectacles, broke the seal of 
his letter and read as follows : 

" My Dear Pastor: 

"In my tent last night, after a fatigu- 
ing day's service, I remembered that I failed to 
send you my contribution for our colored Sunciny 
School, Enclosed you will find my check for that 
object, which please acknowledge at your earliest 
convenience and oblige yours faithfully, 

''T. J. Jackson." 



60 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

And that was all ! The people were much 
amused, and the old minister disconcerted by 
this special communication from the battle-field. 

Tt ^ tV tV -* 

It was claimed by some that Jackson was seen 
in battle, and elsewhere, very frequently in the 
act of prayer with his hand upraised. But this 
is a mistake for he made no display of his relig- 
ion. He was wounded in his hand at the first 
battle of Manassas, and which, by the way, he 
would not have dressed until some private sol- 
diers more in need had been attended to, first. 
This wound in his hand at times gave him pain 
which was relieved somewhat b}^ holding it up- 
right, and thus was started the rumor, that "he 
was often seen holding up his hand in prayer." 
* * * On the day of Malvern Hill I saw 
"Stonewall" Jackson in the thick of the fight and 
under circumstances that stirred the depths of 
his nature. The sun was sinking towards the 
western sky when our wearied troops emerged 
from the pine woods, which were being torn and 
riven by shot and shell. 

We stood there then, obscured from our for- 
midable adversary only by the black cloud of 
sulphurous smoke that overhung the bloody field 
like a pall shrouding the windrows of the slain. 
McClellan's grand army, 90,000 strong, con- 
fronted us on those heights, which bristled with 
300 field pieces and great siege guns re-inforced 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 61 

by the monster cannon of the river boats. All 
the guns banked in tiers, extending the distance 
of a mile, now belched forth in streams of flame 
and iron hail, that mowed down ranks and regi- 
ments and forest trees far in their rear. The 
incessant din and concussion of the bursting 
bombs seemed to rend the firmament and shake 
the solid earth. 

As we moved forward into action, we passed 
within a few paces of "Stonewall" who, at that 
time, was giving orders to a battery which was 
being actually destroyed by the concentrated fire 
of McClellan's artillery. He sat erect on his 
horse in this hurricane of "cannister" and 
"grape;" his face was aflame with passion, his 
eyes flashed, his under jaw protruded, and his 
voice rang out sharp and clear. 

Before he was entirely obscured from our 

view, the soldiers of the column would turn, at 

brief intervals, to look back on him as if for the 

last time; and, indeed, it was the last time for 

many of us. 

^ * * * * 

As regards Jackson's relations to General Lee 
and other generals of high rank, and speaking 
from the standpoint of a subordinate, it appeared 
to us as if they were all more like brothers than 
like rival generals. 

Jackson said: "I will follow General Lee 
blindfolded;" and Lee said of Jackson, after his 



62 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

death: "I have lost my right arm!" — and well 
he might say that. * * * 

Toward the close of his career whenever 
"Stonewall" Jackson appeared to citizens who 
had known him only by reputation, he w^as always 
regarded by them with great interest. Many 
had clothed him in imagination with almost 
supernatural powers ; others believed him to be 
a chosen leader, especially favored of heaven on 
account of his religious character and pure life. 

But his soldiers knew that his success lay in 
his eternal vigilance, his untiring energy, his 
personal supervision and perfect knowledge of 
the topography of the field of his operations, and 
in the exercise of those qualities that bring 
success to other generals. Yet he possessed 
qualities that were peculiar to him as natural 
gifts; he had a resolute mind and never halted 
between two opinions; and he had the intuitions 
and instincts of the born soldier, quick to dis- 
cover, and to take advantage of any mistakes 
his adversary might make Above all, he had a 
realizing sense of the inestimable value of time 
in connection with the operations of war. He 
was always on time. It was a tradition with 
his soldiers that when at Richmond Lee heard 
the sound of Jackson's guns, away off on 
McClellan's right, he took out his watch and 
calmly remarked: "Jackson is on time." 

General Lee knew all that this remark implied 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 68 

— the arduous toil and sleepless energy — yet he 
expressed no surprise ; he expected nothing less 
of Jackson. ***** 

It is related that Jackson on his tour of 
Europe visited the battle-field of Waterloo. He 
was familiar with the details of that battle, as 
he was of others, for although a devout, humble 
Christian, he was essentially a military man and 
took delight in military affairs, and was a stu- 
dent of the campaigns of history. He pointed 
out at Waterloo, how Napoleon had tarried too 
long at Hougoumont, and how the delay to begin 
the battle early in the morning — rain or no rain 
— proved fatal; and other sagacious remarks 
that showed him to be conversant with the situ- 
ation. But he believed that the brilliant Napo- 
leon, through failing health, was not himself 
on that field, and that he did not there display 
the military acumen and the towering genius 
that had glorified other fields. 

And it may be said that in some characteris- 
tics, these two great military geniuses were not 
unlike ; Jackson's confidence in himself, under 
Supreme guidance, in all his military maneuvres 
was not unlike Napoleon's faith in his star of 
destiny; yet it may be remarked that neither of 
them, despite all this, ever failed in any pre- 
caution that might tend to his success in 
battle. 

They each believed in officers who could 



64 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

accomplish things; that achievement was worth 
all, and unfulfilled promises, nothing. 

Napoleon thought a blunder in military affairs 
worse than a deliberate crime; Jackson would 
make no allowance for an officer who failed in 
an enterprise through any neglect of duty, how- 
ever arduous the duty might be, if it could be 
accomplished at all, through strenuous and per- 
severing exertion. 

He never spared himself any trouble or exer- 
tion, and was often thoroughly worn out by in- 
cessant labors, and by hunger and loss of sleep ; 
as the following anecdote will go to show: 

Shortly after sunrise, on the morning after 
the battle of Fredericksburg, as I was walking 
along the ridge above Hamilton's Crossing, and 
about thirty yards from one of our batteries, I 
passed within a few feet of General Jackson who 
had taken up his position on this vantage ground 
for the purpose of reconnoitering ; but he was 
not doing very much of it just at that time, for 
he was seated on the ground, leaning against a 
hickory sapling, and fast asleep ! He held his 
bridle-rein in one hand and his field-glass in the 
other, and did not awaken as I walked along the 
path in touching distance of him, but seemed to 
be sleeping as calmly as I had seen him sleep 
years before in the church at Lexington. 

However, his slumbers were destined to be of 
short duration, for a battery of heavy guns on 



STONEWALL JACKSON. 65 

the Stafford heights soon opened with a volley 
directed against the battery near the spot where 
Jackson was quietly sleeping. The fire of these 
guns continued only for a short time, but while 
it lasted the din was terrific, not to speak of 
the destruction wrought by the hurtling missiles. 
The very first gun that opened this morning 
salute sent a shell right into the muzzle of the 
cannon nearest the general, broke it from its 
trunnions, and hurled the piece back into the 
barbette, killing two horses, and barely missing 
the cannoneers who were trenching at the time, 
an operation they could not perform the day 
before while the battle was raging. 

Several days after this I met General Jackson 
riding across the battle field about two miles 
below Fredericksburg. He was riding alone and 
very slowly, with his head hanging down as if 
in profound thought. He halted a few min- 
utes and spoke in a friendly, kindly way, 
but made no allusion to the battle, the sad, 
melancholy evidences of which were all around 
us. * * * * * 

A few weeks before his death I visited his 
head- quarters for the last time. He at that 
time occupied for his office, an out building at 
Moss Neck on the Rappahannock, which had 
been used in happier days as a sporting lodge. 
On the walls of this room still hung pictures of 
race horses, game cocks and the trophies of the 
chase. 



66 STONEWALL JACKSON. 

One was impressed on entering here with the 
ludicrous incongruity of these pictures to the 
grim surroundings of war, and to the taste of 
the grave, religious soldier who occupied these 
quarters. After a pleasant conversation of half 
an hour I took my leave of General Jackson, 
who had now won a world wide fame, and was 
still the same modest diffident man I had met 
for the first time at Lexington, eleven years 
before. * * * * * 

When Jackson died many of his friends 
believed that his death portended the downfall 
of his cause, and never had much hope of its 
success from that fatal day ; but his soldiers 
grieved his loss as no others could grieve for him. 
His death smote the whole south-land "with a 
pang of unspeakable anguish." 

He died at Guinea's Station, near Fredericks- 
burg, May 10, 1863. * * * * 

The Duke of Wellington once expressed the 
opinion that the presence of Napoleon on a 
field of battle was worth all of 20,000 men. It 
would be difficult to compute how many men the 
presence of Jackson on a battlefield was worth. 
There was but one "Stonewall" Jackson. His 
presence in any battle where the victory wavered 
in the balance, his soldiers thought, was worth 
all the difference between victory and defeat. 

"Brave men lived before Agamemnon," and 
there were brave and able officers living after 



STONEWALL JACKSON, 67 

Jackson, but his constant success had wrought 
such faith in his old soldiers, and they were so 
dazzled by the popular applause and enthusiasm 
which his presence everywhere inspired that 
they truly believed there was none to come after 
him that could fill his place. 

NOTE. A portion of this narrative (illustrated,) is published in 
the war-book entitled, "Under Both Flags." 



SONNET. 



"stonewall" JACKSON. 



Jackson stands there, ''like a stone wall," he said, 
As he pointed his sword across the battlefield; 
Thus the name— none prouder on spotless shield 
Than ''Stonewall," the sobriquet to valor paid. 
Twas ever thus where heroes have drawn the blade ; 
The gentle were the daring when dangers appealed, 
And Jackson, the devout, the lion-heart revealed, 
As he stood at Manassas with his old brigade I 
He wrote with the sword in rude columns of war. 
And the trace he made may grow dim on the scroll 
Of time, as the generations rise and fall; 
Yet the memories of heroic deeds reach afar. 
And with the noble and the true on honor's roll, 
* 'Stonewall" will abide till the last call. 



SKETCHES 

OF 

TRAVEL AND BIOGRAPHY. 

PART II. 



P ART II. 



ACROSS THE OCEAN. 

We took passage at New York on a Cunarder, 
and as the pilot stood at the helm and steered 
the ship through the countless craft that 
thronged the bay, many friends upon the dock 
waved adieu to friends on board, and my com- 
panion must need wave too, although we had no 
friend there to bid us good-bye. We steamed 
down the bay past the busy wharfs, in sight of 
the Brooklyn bridge, past the Statue of Liberty, 
Staten Island and through the Narrows with its 
forts and bristling guns, and so on through the 
lower bay. When we had crossed the bar and 
were well off Sandy Hook, and just as our harbor 
pilot had left us, to our surprise our ship hove 
to and cast anchor. We were informed that we 
were to await in the offing the through mail 
from Australia via. California, which was 
several hours late. 

Thus the first night on the ship we slept upon 
the bosom of comparatively smooth waters, but 
when we awoke the mail had been taken aboard, 
71 



72 ACROSS THE OCEAN. 

and our vessel was ploughing the waves under a 
full head of steam. Although the sailors said it 
was smooth sailing, the waters seemed rough to 
us, and before the day was over many pas- 
sengers were very sea-sick; and some thought 
in their extremity if their feet were firm set on 
the land, they would not again venture upon the 
treacherous waves. 

After a day or two the majority of the pas- 
sengers came around again all right, and to those 
who were not effected by mal-de-mer, the sea-air 
was very stimulating and seemed to whet the ap- 
petite to an unusual degree. 

There were a large number of passengers re- 
presenting many nationalities, yet there was no 
jar or discord among them for it seemed to be 
the rule for each one to do what he could to 
contribute to the enjoyment of all, and many 
hours were whiled away in reading, singing, 
pitching rings, shuffle-board, and at playing the 
American game of draw poker in the smoking 
room where many sovereigns changed hands. 

An incident of some interest occurred when 
w^e were about one hundred miles out from New 
York harbor — a carrier pigeon was turned loose 
at that point. It was the intention of the owner 
that it should bear a message to a town in the 
interior of New Jersey. The bird arose high in 
the air, and then after circling around for a 
time it seemed to take its bearings and bore 



ACROSS THE OCEAN. 73 

away backward on the course whence we came. 
Long afterwards we learned from the owner that 
the bird did actually make the Jersey coast, but 
there unfortunately it was discovered by a boy 
hunter as it rested after its long stormy flight 
and w^as shot. The hunter, however, he said, 
had the grace to send the message it carried 
(wrapped around its legs) to his family in the 
interior. 

Our captain, a bluff English mariner about 
forty-five years of age, read the Episcopal service 
on Sunday in the diuing saloon. He read it 
with gravity and impressively, yet it smacked 
somewhat of the flavor of the sea. An elderly 
English clergyman preached the sermon ; the day 
was stormy and the rolling ship pitched the 
Bible from the improvised altar. The aged 
minister dropped his "h's" badly in speech, yet 
he proved to be a man of classical culture, and 
before the close he spoke with impassioned 
eloquence. 

In passing the Grand Banks the f )g was 
thick and the ship's bell was sounded every few 
minutes. We saw here a number of fishing 
smacks and one small boat containing two men 
floated very near our ship. 

The bronzed fishermen saluted the passing ves- 
sel by dofling their hats, and one of them held 
up to view a very large fish. This incident 
called to mind the fact, that upon a late voyage 



74 ACROSS THE OCEAN. 

one of the vessels of this line picked up two 
fishermen who had drifted for three days lost 
in the fog, and were nearly famished. They were 
treated kindly, as is the custon on the sea ; the 
passengers raised a handsome collection for 
them, and they and their boat were taken to 
Liverpool and placed in the great "Exposition 
of Navigation," which at that time was being 
held there. They were certainly genuine speci- 
mens of Newfoundland fishermen and fishing 
boat. 

Although we crossed the ocean afterwards, 
yet first impressions are the best, at least the 
most vivid ; and never again did we see so much 
life on the sea as on this first voyage. Our ves- 
sel had sailed a more northern route than usual 
to avoid the icebergs that were known to be in 
the track usually taken. In this northern route, 
porpoises played around our ship daily, also 
stormy petrel and sea gulls skimmed the waves 
near by, and sharks, large "man-eaters," would 
occasionally dart past the ship with incredible 
velocity. But the greatest sight of all was re- 
served for a certain beautiful afternoon when we 
were all seated on the promenade deck ; a large 
whale rose in full view not fifty yards away ; it 
rested quite still for a short time, and as the pas- 
sengers rushed to the guards it fell astern, spout- 
ing vigorously. We all had a fine view of it. 

It was nearly nightfall when we sighted the 



ACROSS THE OCEAN. 75 

heights of Cape Clear Island, the outermost point 
of Ireland — ''Green Erin," whose many woes 
since the days of Cromwell have excited the 
sympathies of the world. Her cause has never 
lacked champions, martyrs and silver-tongued 
orators, such as Emmet, Burke, Curran and 
Sheridan, and in our time Parnell and Gladstone. 

The darkness had about shrouded the scene as 
we came under "Fastnet Light," which is on a 
rock twelve miles off the coast and sixty miles 
from Queenstown. The lighthouse stands high 
above the water on a rock barely large enough 
to hold it, and is in appearance lonely and pic- 
turesque. 

The mails are put off at Queenstown, which is 
a strongly fortified, landlocked harbor, 253 miles 
from Liverpool. They are carried thence by 
train to Kingston, across the Irish Sea to Holy 
Head, thence to London by train, arriving there 
twenty-four hours before the passengers who go 
up the channel. 

All day Sunday we steamed up St. George's 
Channel and the Irish Sea, arriving at the Liver- 
pool docks about five p. m. This is in some re- 
spects the greatest sea-port of the world ; the 
cut stone docks extend a distance of twelve 
miles, and more craft resort to this harbor than 
to any other. 

We arrived in London about ten a. m. the 
next day. This city is a world within itself, con- 



76 ACROSS THE OCEAN. 

taining now 5,657,000 people; twenty-eight miles 
of street are built each year, on an average, and 
it is said that its beer shops if placed side by 
side would extend a distance of seventy-five 
miles. For antiquities and historical associa- 
tions, this city surpasses in interest any other 
English speaking city of the earth. 

In walking these streets we passed Whitehall, 
in front of which Charles I was executed, and 
here also a few years later, the head of Crom- 
well was displayed on a pike in the old White- 
hall Chamber. We can scarcely realize at this 
day that such things could be. We noticed the 
sign of "Dombey & Son," and thought of Mr. 
Dickens; we walked by "Old Curiosity Shop," 
and thought of "Little Nell;" this latter build- 
ing is low, dingy, and insignificant in appear- 
ance. 

In the early morning we walked across West- 
minster Bridge which Wordsworth has commem- 
orated in the lines of a beautiful poem ; also, we 
crossed the ancient London Bridge, and entered 
the celebrated Billingsgate fish-market, but it 
was rather late, and business of the day was well 
over. Next we ascended the ancient "London 
Monument," near the Tower, which marks the 
spot where the great fire, that destroyed so 
large a portion of the city in 1666, was stopped. 

The London streets indeed abound in tradi- 
tions and vestiges of antiquity. We were 



ACROSS THE OCEAN. 77 

standing on the steps of St. Paul's after having 
viewed the graves of Nelson and Wellington, 
the battle-scarred flags of the Crimean War, 
and other relics of that ancient church, when 
there passed us a little group of countrymen led 
by a guide. We turned and followed into the 
church ; they passed everything without notice, 
until, on turning aside into the transcept, the 
guide halted in front of the tomb of the Duke 
of Wellington. 

He said: "Here is the man who whipped 
Bonaparte !" The majority of these vistors were 
evidently unable to read, but they crowded with 
great interest about the tomb of Wellington. 
They talked boastfully of the man "who had 
whipped old Bony;" then, after spending all 
of a half hour around this grave, they left the 
church without looking at anything else. 

We took this opportunity to copy into our 
note-book the epitaph on the monument recently 
erected here, to "Chinese" Gordon. There is, 
perhaps, nowhere to be found a more truthful, 
or a nobler epitaph than this to General Gor- 
don. It is as follows : 

GENERAL CHARLES GEORGE GORDON, 

of Soudan fame, by his brother. 

He gave his strength to the weak; his service 
to the poor; his sympathy to the suffering; his 
heart to God. At last obedient to the commands of 
his sovereign, he died to save women and children 
from imminent death and suffering. 



TOWER OF LONDON. 

The Tower of London is the most ancient 
palace and fortress in England; its origin is 
ascribed to Julius Caesar. Other writers claim 
that the White Tower ii the oldest part, and 
that it was built by William the Conqueror in 
1078. 

Macaulay in his History of England, says of 
the burials in the ancient chapel: "Thither have 
been carried through successive ages by the rude 
hands of gaolers, without one mourner following, 
the bleeding relics of men who have been the 
captains of armies, the leaders of parties, the 
oracles of senates and the ornaments of courts ;" 
and again he says: "In truth there is no sadder 
spot on earth than this little cemetery." 

In the midst of the "Tower green" is planted 
a brass tablet on which we read this inscription : 

"site of ancient scaffold 

on this spot 

queen anne boleyn 

was beheaded on the 

19th of may 1536" 

This is the style and form of the inscription, 
without one punctuation mark. It tells a sad 



TOWER OF LONDON. 79 

truth, but not the whole truth, for Queen Kath- 
arine, Lady Jane Grey and others were also ex- 
ecuted on this spot. 

The dark and winding passageways of the 
Tower are now lighted by electricity. In our 
rambles here we took note of many relics of 
a barbarous age, the horrid implements of tor- 
ture used in the olden time; the "scavenger's 
daughter," a rough iron implement for securing 
the neck, arms and feet of the victim ; the "bil- 
boes" used for fastening prisoners together; 
the "thumb screws, ' ' and the "collar of torment." 

The crown jewels or the regalia are kept here 
in the Wakefield Tower. The crown, scepter 
and various regalia worn at coronations are here 
to be seen; but most of the magnificent objects 
date from the time of the restoration. For it is 
recorded that, "on the return of Charles 
II there existed only some loose stones and 
some fragments of the ancient crowns previously 
preserved in the Tower." 

One of the most prominent objects is the 
crown of Queen Victoria which she used at her 
coronation in 1838. Many of the jewels it con- 
tains are of great antiquity. Many brilliants 
surround the ancient and famous ruby that once 
belonged to the "Black Prince," and was also 
worn in the helmet of Henry V at the battle of 
Agincourt. 

Victoria's crown is said to contain precious 



80 TOWER OF LONDON. 

stones as follows : diamonds 2783 ; pearls 277 ; 
rubies 5; sapphires 17; emeralds 11. It presents 
an appearance, though tasteful, gorgeous in the 
extreme. 

It would take long to merely glance at the 
numerous crowns, scepters, communion service, 
swords, bracelets, spurs of gold, &c., &c., that 
are preserved in the iron cage of this great 
stronghold, surrounded by guards. We shall 
note only one or two more. 

The "Annointing Spoon" is said to be one of 
the few objects remaining of the old regalia of 
remote times. It is of solid gold, the bowl is 
beautifully chased, and the handle enameled and 
set with jewels. 

The salt-cellar of gold, richly jewelled, was 
modelled after the White Tower. It was used at 
state banquets and served to mark the seats of 
honor, "above the salt." 

In the armory in the White Tower among the 
innumerable knights and figures in armor, there 
is an effigy of Queen Elizabeth mounted upon 
her palfrey, as she appeared in going to West- 
minster Abbey to return thanks for the repulse 
of the Spanish Armada in 1588. 

It is surprising how small the suits of armor 
are ; scarcely any of them are large enough to 
fit a man of medium stature of this age. We 
noticed also that the soldiers on guard at the 
outer tower would have to stoop their shoulders 



TOWER OF LONDON. 81 

as they entered beneath the archway of the an- 
cient guard-room. The modern man is evidently 
of greater stature than the men for whom this 
guard-room was built many centuries ago. 

However, we noticed critically a splendid suit 
of armor of Henry VIH presented to him by 
Maximilian on his marriage to Katharine of 
Arragon. If this armor was made for him, he 
must have been a man of goodly size, at least 
six feet in height. 

An Arabic coat of arms bore this curious in- 
scription engraved on a plate attached to the 
chain mail : 

''Honor is obedience (to God) 
and wealth is contentment- 
health and welfare." 

Here is the beheading-block, the ax and the 
mask worn by the executioner at the last execu- 
tion of this chara-cter in Great Britain. On this 
block were beheaded the Scotch lords, Kilmar- 
nock and Balmerino, adherents of Prince Charles 
Edward, after the battle of CuUoden in the year 
1746. The following year the old Scotch lord, 
Lovat, was beheaded on the same block. We 
counted six deep indentations on the block 
which were made by the headsman's ax; hence 
the average was two strokes each. 

Walpole relates several eccentric traits of these 
Scotch lords on their trial and execution. It 
seems that it was the custom to carry the heads- 



82 TOWER OF LONDON. 

man's ax into the court room with the prison- 
ers on each day of their trial ; for he says : 
"When they were brought from the Tower in 
separate coaches, there was some dispute in 
which the ax must go — old Balmerino cried, 
'Come, come, put it v/ith me.' At the bar he 
played with his fingers on the ax while he talked 
to the jailer. One day somebod}^ coming up to 
listen, he took the blade and held it like a fan 
between their faces. At t he trial in Westminster, 
one day a little boy stood near him, but was not 
tall enough to see; he made room for the child 
and placed him near himself. He said that one 
of his reasons for his pleading 'not guilty' was, 
that 'so many ladies might not be disappointed 
of their show.' " 

Balmerino kept up his spirits to the same 
pitch of gayety. In the cell at Westminster, 
while waiting on the court for sentence after 
their conviction, he showed Lord Kilmarnock how 
he must lay his head ; bid him not to wince lest 
the stroke should cut his skull or his shoulders, 
and advised him to bite his lips. After sentence, 
as they were about to return to the Tower, he 
begged they might have another bottle together, 
as they should never meet anymore till — then 
pointed to his neck. On arriving at the Tower, 
he said to the jailer as he got out of the coach, 
"Take care, or you'll break my shins with this 
d — d ax." When they brought in his death-war- 



TOWER OF LONDON. 83 

rant to read to him, he was seated at dinner. 
His wife fainted. He jumped up to her assist- 
ance, and said : "Lieutenant, with your d — d war- 
rant you have spoilt my lady's stomach." 

On the day of their execution, as he took leave 
of Lord Kilmarnock for the last time, he said : 
"My Lord, I wish I could suffer for both!'' He 
died with the intrepidity of a hero. 

Lord Lovat was executed on Tower Hill on 
the same block, and with the same ax here to be 
seen, in April of the next year, 1747. This was 
the last use of the beheading-block in England; 
and while standing here in the Tower, viewing 
the ax and the block, we were forcibly reminded 
of the incidents here narrated. 

In the state prison room the name "lANE," in 
ancient characters, is cut in the wall; it attracts 
much attention from visitors, for it is supposed 
that this name was cut here by Lord Guildford 
Dudley, when he was confined in a separate 
prison from his unhappy wife. This is the only 
memorial preserved of Lady Jane Grey in the 
Tower. 

Queen Anne Boleyn was kept a prisoner in the 
royal apartments of the Tower before and after 
she was condemned to death ; she was beheaded, 
as stated, "on the Green by the White Tower," 
less than four years after her marriage to Henry 
VIII. 

Ancient accounts describe Queen Anne as very 



84 TOWER OF LONDON. 

beautiful ; one writer speaks of her as "rivalling 
Venus." But a lady of the time writes, in ref- 
erence to Mistress Anne's flirtations with King 
Henry VIII, in her diary: "Mistress Ann is not 
his spouse yet, nor ever will be, I hope." 

But Mistress Anne drew the king deeper by 
her wiles, until he was forced to such declara- 
tions as follows: "My heart and I surrender 
themselves into your hands, and we supplicate 
to be commended to your good graces, and that 
by absence your affection may not be diminished 
to us, for that would be to augment our pain, 
which would be a great pity, since absence gives 
enough, and more than I ever thought could be 
felt, &c." 

An ancient account says in regard to her 
execution, that proper preparations had not been 
made and that "her body was thrown into an elm 
chest to put arrows in, and was buried in the 
Chapel of the Tower before twelve o'clock." 

Of all the distinguished men that were con- 
fined in the Tower, perhaps Sir Walter Raleigh 
is the most interesting character. He was im- 
prisoned for twelve years in the Bloody Tower. 
It was here he was visited by Prince Henry, who 
one day said to an attendant as he left the pres- 
ence of Sir Walter : "No king, save my father, 
would keep such a bird in such a cage." Sir Walter 
devoted much of his time to chemistry, and the 
Lieutenant of the Tower wrote of him: "He has 



TOWER OF LONDON. 86 

converted a little hen-house in the garden into a 
still-house, and here he doth spend his time all 
the day in distillations. * * * * he doth show 
himself upon the wall in his garden to the view 
of the people." Here he wrote political dis- 
courses and commenced his "History." 

On the morning of his execution, it is related 
that his keeper brought him a cup of sack, and 
inquired how he liked it; he said, "it was a good 
drink, if a man might tarry by it." As he trod 
the scaffold, he touched the ax and said: "This 
is sharp medicine, but it will cure all diseases." 

The Bishop of Salisbury who attended at his 
execution, declared: "His was the most fearless 
of deaths that ever was known and the most res- 
olute and confident, yet with reverence and con- 
science !" 

Many visitors read in the Beauchamp Tower, 
the pathetic inscriptions that were carved on 
these walls by prisoners who were never more to 
breathe the free air. The descendants of the 
men who persecuted them, pay a small sum to 
come here now and read these tangible eviden- 
ces of their despair. 

The one thought that impresses the student 
of humanity, while walking through the gloomy 
passages of these ancient prisons and palaces is, 
that the world is certainly better now than it 
used to be; at least, it is more refined in its cruel- 
ties. 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

To an American traveler who is concerned in 
the past history of his race, there is no more in- 
teresting spot on earth than Westminster Abbey ; 
for he will perceive here-exemplified by tangible 
objects the continuity of England's history dur- 
ing a period of a thousand years. 

Throughout these centuries the chief actors in 
great historic events — their careers ended — have 
been brought here for interment. Not only the 
mortal remains of kings and queens but of sol- 
diers, scholars and poets ; men of action and 
men of thought ; the greatest of their time, rest 
here. 

Here then, the intelligent American traveler 
will be stirred by the memories of the past as 
nowhere else on his journey; and to this spot 
he will turn with the deepest interest. 

This venerable and splendid edifice was origi- 
nally founded by Segbert, King of the East Sax- 
ons. It was rebuilt by Edward the Confessor; 
after his time it was destroyed by fire,and again 
rebuilt during the reign of the three Edwards. 
In the reign of Henry VII, that monarch added 
the chapel known by his name, and it finally 
86 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 87 

came under the care of the great architect, Sir 
Christopher Wren. 

The architectural order is Gothic, and its 
walls are built of cream-colored sandstone called 
"Caen Stone." 

The best view of the Abbey externally is from 
the open space in front of the western entrance. 
Entering here, the body of the church presents a 
grand and impressive appearance ;the whole de- 
sign being at once opened to the view ; its lofty 
roof, beautifully colored lights, and long arcades 
of columns. 

The present church is not the work of one 
generation, but of five centuries. In the year 
1478 Edward IV wrote to the Pope at Rome, in 
which letter he speaks of the Abbey as "placed 
before the eyes of the whole world of English- 
men," and to which any favor shown would be 
"welcome to all of English blood." 

Thus we see, the interest now so widely felt in 
this venerable church has existed throughout 
generations. During these years the great vic- 
tories won by English armies have been celebra- 
ted by processions and Te Deums beneath its 
roof. 

The Chapter House of the Abbey where Par- 
liament frequently assembled for three centuries, 
may well be called "the cradle of Parliamentary 
government" of England and her Colonies. Also 
through many centuries this stately edifice has 



88 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

been the scene of coronations, royal marriages, 
and funerals. 

The principal points of interest are The Nave, 
Henry VII Chapel, Confessor's Chapel, Poet's 
Corner and Jerusalem Chamber. 

Henry VII erected this Chapel as a place of 
burial for himself and sovereigns of England. 
It is even yet — though frayed and dimmed by 
time — one of the most exquisite specimens of 
florid Gothic architecture. Its walls are covered 
with a lace-like pattern, and every part is en- 
riched with a minute tracery and hundreds of 
roses, portcullises, fleur-de-lis and grey-hounds; 
emblems of the royal families represented. 

The windows are filled with painted glass, and 
the light which streams through them is tinged 
with a glow of warm colors that heighten the 
effect of the scene. 

Henry VII was buried here on the 10th of 
May, )509, in a gorgeous shrine inlaid with gold 
and silver. But the rude soldiery of the Civil 
War stripped off the gold and silver wherever 
they could find it, and they marred and obliter- 
ated much of the beauty of this tomb, as well 
as of others which have been fashioned by hands 
of unequalled skill. 

Cromwell's Roundheads showed but scanty re- 
spect for monuments and memorials. 

As side by side they recline upon their tomb, 
the effigies of King Henry VII and his queen, 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 89 

even to this day excite the deepest admiration. 
It is said that muscular modelling and anatomy 
were sculptured here for the first time, true to 
nature. Bacon speaks of this tomb as "one of 
the stateliest and daintiest monuments of 
Europe." 

Henry VII entered into a formal written agree- 
ment with the Monastery of Westminster, as to 
the religious observances to be held in this 
chapel "whilst the world shall endure," not- 
withstanding this, in less than fifty years after 
his death, "the last flicker of the tapers had died 
out at his shrine." 

Near by in the white marble tomb erected by 
James I rest the bodies of Queen Elizabeth and 
her half-sister, Queen Mary, in the same grave. 
On this tomb reclines the magnificent effigy of 
the haughty Queen Elizabeth, carved in Parian 
marble. 

This tomb bears the following Latin inscrip- 
tion : '■''Begno Gonso7'tes et urna^ hie ahdorimus 
mizabetha et Maria sorores, in spe reserrec- 
tionis.''^ 

Dean Stanley remarked on this pathetic epi- 
taph: "The long war of the English Reformation 
isc losed in these words. The sisters are at one, 
the daughter of Katharine of Arragon and the 
daughter of AnneBoleyn rest in peace, at last." 

It is a singular fact that the last royal tombs 
erected in the Abbey, are the one of Elizabeth and 



90 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY. 

Mary, and the one adjoining which contains the 
remains of Mary Queen of Scotts. On this tomb 
which was also erected by James I in honor of 
his mother, rests the exquisite marble effigy of 
that beautiful, unfortunate queen. 

Fourteen sovereigns have sat on the throne 
since Elizabeth, yet no monument has been 
erected here to any one of them, not so much as 
even a line of inscription .carved ! 

At coronations that have taken place since the 
time of Edward I in Westminster, the monarch 
has alwaj^s been seated in a large oaken chair, 
called "King Edward's chair." 

This chair is very quaintly carved and is now 
dark with age. It was made for Edward I as 
a coronation chair and contains an under seat 
on which rests the "Scone stone," which is in 
appearance a limestone. Its history is briefly 
as follows: When Edward I overran Scotland 
in the year 1297, he seized this precious stone 
on which the Scotch monarchs had been crowned 
for many generations, and took it to England 
where it was placed in Westminster Abbe}'. 

The funeral of Henry Y was the most im- 
posing, perhaps, ever held in Westminster up to 
that time. His three chargers were led up to 
the altar behind his effigy, which was dressed in 
royal robes and lay on the splendid car; "accom- 
pained by white robed priests innumerable." 

Five hundred men-at-arms dressed in black, 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 91 

with lances reversed, and three hundred more 
with torches, made an impressive scene. The 
funeral helmet, saddle and shield of this warrior 
king were hung on a cross-beam, where al- 
though frayed and falling to pieces from age, 
they are still to be seen in their places. Dean 
Stanley refers to this helmet as, "the very 
casque that did affright the air at Agincourt !" 

Literary associations are connected in our 
minds with Westminster Abbey almost as closely 
as the historical memorials which crowd its 
walls. The American visitor here for the first 
time anticipates joyously the prospect of look- 
ing on the famous "Poets' Corner." 

And the very first tomb he will come to is that 
of Geoifrey Chaucer, the father of English po- 
etry. He died in 1400 and his was the first 
tomb in Poets' Corner. Two hundred years 
later, Edmund Spenser, the next great poet after 
Chaucer, was buried here near his tomb. An 
ancient poet wrote in Latin verse: "He was the 
nearest to Chaucer in genius and it is meet that 
his grave should be next to his." Drayton said 
of him: "Master Edmund Spenser has done 
enough for the immortality of his name had he 
only given us his Shepherd's Calendar." 

It is a tradition that Drayton, together with 
his companions, Ben Jonson and Shakespeare, 
attended the funeral of Spenser. For an ancient 
account nays : "Poets attended upon his hearse. 



92 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

and mournful elegies with the pens that wrote 
them, were thrown into his tomb!" 

If it were so that records are as imperishable 
in the dust of Westminster as in the sands of 
Egypt — then this tomb of the poet Spenser 
should be unclosed to recover the "mournful el- 
egy" written by the hand of Shakespeare! 

Clustered near by the tombs of Chaucer and 
Spenser are the monuments or cenotaphs of 
Shakespeare, Milton, Ben Jonson, Campbell, 
etc., down to our own time: such as Tennyson, 
Macaulay, Beaconsfield, Dickens, Browaing and 
our own Longfellow and Lowell. Very few of 
them are buried here. 

Ben Jonson, the friend of Shakespeare, was 
buried here in the "Nave," Poets' Corner, in an 
upright position and a modern paving stone now 
marks the place. The ancient stone that covered 
his remains was placed in its present position 
against the wall in 1821 to preserve its incrip- 
tion : "O rare Ben Jonson !" 

His singular burial in a standing position is 
explained as follows : One day being rallied by 
the Dean of Westminster about being buried 
in "Poets' Corner," the poet is said to have re- 
plied : "I am too poor for that and no one w^ill 
layout funeral charges upon me. No sir, six feet 
long by two feet wide is too much for me ; two 
feet by two will do for all I want." 

"You shall have it," said the Dean, and thus 
the conversation ended. 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 9S 

The world famous inscription: "O rare Ben 
Jonson," lias been attributed to Sir William 
Davenant, who succeeded Jonson as poet laur- 
eate and on whose tomb is found the same ex- 
pression, "O rare Sir William Davenant!" 

Shakespeare's monument, erected more than 
a hundred years after his death, was called by 
Horace Walpole, "a preposterous monument," 
— this phrase may be applicable to it. However, 
there is a compensation in the circumstance that 
on the scroll held by his life-size efRgy, there 
are engraved his own immortal lines — peculiarly 
applicable to these surroundings where earthly 
grandeur is fading away. 

"The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself. 
Yea; all which it inherit shall dissolve, 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind." 

The tomb of Edward I, the greatest of the 
Plantagenets, is the plainest of all the royal 
tombs, — a simple box-like coffin of stone ; but it 
bears the following epitaph, which is said to be 
the most stirring of those which belong to the 
Reformation period: ^^Edvardus Primus, malleus 
Scotorum, hie est Pactum serva.^'' 

The lines on the monument of Oliver Gold- 
smith, written by his friend Dr. Johnson, have 
been thought very fine ; in fact, many have 
searched for them in vain among the classics, as 



94 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

others have done for Sterne's "shorn lamb," in 
the Bible. They are as follows : 

"Qwi 7iullum fere scribendi genus non tetigit, 
nullum tetigit quod non ornavit.''^ That is to say : 
"Who left scarcely any style of writing untouch 
ed, and touched nothing that he did not adorn." 

Another quaint epitaph, expressed so nobly by 
an unknown author of the seventeenth century, 
is inscribed on the tomb of the Duchess of New- 
castle, as follows: "She was a wise and learned 
lady, as her many books do testify, and was the 
youngest sister of a noble family; all the broth- 
ers were valiant and all the sisters virtuous." 

The bust of the American poet, Longfellow, 
was placed here two years after his death, "by 
his English admirers." 

One has been recently erected to the American 
writer Low^ell, w^ho became popular as minister 
to England, also in literature. These comprise 
the only monuments to Am-ericans, but there are 
a number here to individuals who have been con- 
nected with our history. 

In the North Transept stands a lofty monu- 
ment to the Earl of Chatham, the "Great Com- 
moner," and the friend of the American colonies. 
His last speech was in the House of Lords in 
1778, when, in a dying condition, he insisted on 
coming to oppose Lord North's government. 
After delivering his great historic appeal in 
defense of the American colonies, he fell down 



WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 95 

in his seat from exhaustion, and died a few weeks 
afterwards. 

Here is a monument to Major Andre, Adjutant 
General of the British forces in North America. 
As is well known, he was captured while on a 
secret mission to Arnold at West Point. After 
a trial by court martial, he was condemned and 
hung as a spy. His monument was erected at 
the expense of George III, and forty years after- 
ward his remains were brought here and in- 
terred near its base. On this shaft, there is a 
bas-relief likeness of Washington receiving the 
petition in which Andre implored for a soldier's 
rather than a felon's death. There is on the 
opposite side a bas-relief representing Andre on 
the way to execution. 

On the monument of Handel, the composer, 
there is engraved on the stone scroll before him, 
the text with notes : "I know that my Redeemer 
liveth," which he so grandly illustrated by the 
music of his "Messiah." 

The marble tiles of this historic edifice have 
been worn by the foot-steps of those who them- 
selves, "after life's fitful fever," have found 
graves or cenotaphs beneath its roof. The 
learned Elizabeth, Shakespeare, Milton, Ben 
Jonson, Dryden, Scott, Macaulay, Thackeray, 
Tennyson, and Dickens have all walked here 
while reading the inscriptions on these ancient 
tombs. 



THE BATTLEFIELD OF 
WATERLOO. 

We could not leave Brussels without visiting- 
the battle field of Waterloo. Here, where in. 
June, 1815, the united nations drew the sword 
against Napoleon, and 72,000 French faced the 
English and allies numbering 70,000 men, now 
grow broad fields of golden grain. 

On that 18th day of June, thousands of horse- 
men had gathered here, and here was "the gal- 
lop, the charge, and the might of the fight." 

We drove out to the battlefield with a small 
party of tourists; the distance from the city is 
fifteen miles, and the road wiads through parks 
and the famous woods of Soignies. All agreed 
that it was a most picturesque and enjoj^able 
ride, and a few men of the party who were 
interested in this world famous battle, were more 
or less excited by anticipation of the scene they 
were to look upon, after passing the village of 
Waterloo. 

We stopped at this village, and inspected the 

house in which Wellington slept the night after 

the battle. He reached this place about midnight 

of that memorable day, and dated his despatches 

96 



THE BATTLEFIELD OF WATERLOO. 97 

from "Waterloo," announcing his victory, which 
circumstance gave the name to the battle. 

The village has not changed much perhaps, 
since his day, and is quaint and old-fashioned in 
every respect. The bed upon which he slept 
after his great victory is still here — an ancient 
common bedstead, very plain, like every thing 
else in this humble house — common, and of 
rough and ancient workmanship. 

As we passed on from here the broad fields 
opened before us, now covered with golden 
grain almost ready for the harvest. Wheat, 
barley, oats and red clover waved to the wind 
where the charging squadron had trampled the 
blood-stained earth, on the 18th of June, 1815. 

We went all over the battlefield, and tarried 
long at Hougoumont, where the French had tar- 
ried too long on that fateful day. We walked 
across the plain where Ney, "The Bravest of the 
Brave," had led the desperate charges, and 
where the "Old Guard" had "died." 

We stood at the spot where Wellington had 
given the command to the Scotch Grenadiers, in 
the patois of the guide : "Oop guarrd and at 'em, 
and de guarrds joost joomp oop, and shoot 
boom, boom!" 

The famous "Sunken road" does not appear 
to us a very formidable obstacle, as our cavalry 
in the late war did at times charge over rougher 
places than this ; but the plain has been some- 



93 THE BATTLEFIELD OF WATERLOO. 

what lowered to the road, by taking off earth 
to make the huge Belgian mount, on which rests 
the great lion. 

The fanciful description of Waterloo by Victor 
Hugo in his Les Jliserables is commonly ac- 
cepted as a real description of the battle. 
From his account of it, one might well conclude 
that he had not been on this field at all. But 
we were shown a brief autograph letter of his, 
in which he states that he was well pleased with 
the little hotel at the foot of the Belgian mount, 
where his autograph is preserved in a frame as 
a precious relic. 

This mound, which was erected by the Bel- 
gians and on top of wnich rests an immense 
Belgian lion in bronze, occupies the center of 
the battle-field. From this summit one can view 
the whole scene. 

It is a beautiful prospect now, but on that 
fateful day it was a sight to stir the soldiers' 
blood ; when twenty thousand cavalry spurred 
across these fields — the Cuirassiers in their bur- 
nished armor, the" Chasseurs in blue and gold, 
and the red Lancers — all the veterans of many 
battles — and directed by a general before that 
time invincible — and who swept obstacles from 
his path as the tornado sweeps the sea ! 

Now, all is peace. Hougoumont is here, and 
La Belle Alliance, the sunken road, and La 
Haye Sainte — but the soldiers are gone; and the 



THE BATTLEFIELD OF WATERLOO. 99 

blue sky is above, and the golden grain below. 

Our guide on this historic field was the son of 
a man wh(? had witnessed the battle, and who had 
acted as a guide to Generals Grant and Sheridan 
when they visited Waterloo. 

Only a few weeks before our visit here we 
had stood on the field of Gettysburg. These 
battle-fields are not dissimilar, only Gettysburg 
is more broken and less favorable to equality in 
battle than Waterloo. 

When we are informed that as many men 
were slain here in one day as fell on the field of 
Gettysburg in three days' battle, we begin to 
realize the nature and extent of the terrible 
struggle that changed the whole map o*f Europe. 

We saw many relics for sale here — of course 
they are all manufactured for the purpose — still, 
they "come from Waterloo" and American and 
English travelers will buy them. 

In the "Grand Place" in Brussels, we saw the 
building where it is said the Duchess of Richmond 
held the ball the night before Waterloo, and 
which is preserved in Byron's magnificent 
description in Childe Harold. 



SWITZERLAND. 

Lucerne, July 28. 

We arrived in Lucerne last night, having 
come from Heidelburg, where we had spent a 
day or two pleasantly. We visited the old castle 
of Heidelburg, the most massive and picturesque 
ruin in Germany. The whole surroundings of 
this ancient castle, with its ruined towers, moats, 
bridges and background of mountains covered 
with forests, present a picture wild and strange. 

One of the notable relics of the castle is the 
*'Great Tun," which holds 49,000 gallons of 
wine. 

The University of Heidelburg is the most an- 
cient and one of the largest of this empire. 
We noted here as one of the curious features 
the "student's prison," the interior walls of 
which were covered over with pencil sketches, 
crude paintings and inscriptions in German, 
Latin, French and a tew in English. 

We could not understand very well why it was 
necessary to have a prison for University stu- 
dents ; but later on we came to the conclusion 
that it was an appropriate and useful institu- 
tion; at least this was our thought after viewing 
100 



SWITZERLAND. 101 

the beer-drinking and duelling of these wild 
blades. 

It so happened that we visited the students' 
quarters beyond the Necker just at a time when 
they seemed to be having — what they would 
call — a good time, as they were engaged in the ser- 
ious business of drinking beer and fighting duels. 

One young man — a fair-haired, manly looking 
fellow — who had just finished a duel, had his 
scalp padded with raw cotton, and upon his 
cheek were several clean cuts of the rapier — 
while the cloth upon his shoulder was saturated 
with his young blood. It seemed a strange 
thing to us who had seen soldiers put forth their 
strength in battle — this mimicry of war. 

Yet it somewhat tests the native metal of the 
young combatant, and to his phlegmatic Ger- 
man temperament brings a glory and an honor, 
almost equal to that the soldier wins in the 
press of charging squadrons. 

The eyes of the fencers are protected by gog- 
gles, and the throat and the upper part of the 
chest are padded, to secure protection against a 
mortal wound. 

A duel began shortly after our arrival. One 
of the combatants was a left-handed young man, 
and the other larger and apparently braver in 
the start, but the tables were soon turned. The 
thrusts of the left-handed fencer are difficult to 
parry as a usual thing, and it proved so in this 



102 SWITZERLAND. 

instance. But really these students did not 
"thrust" at all, as that would inevitably result 
in severe or mortal wounds while fencing with 
sharp-pointed weapons. They simply slashed 
away at each other over hand, but with such 
quick and skillful cuts as to prove them mas- 
ters of fence. 

The left-handed combatant soon slashed his 
opponent upon the cheek with a vicious stroke 
of his rapier that laid it open and made the 
blood spurt. Then the seconds interposed be- 
tween them their own crossed rapiers and 
stopped the fight. After the wounded swords- 
man had been sponged off and examined by the 
surgeon, the fray was continued in the same 
manner, with pauses between wounds, to see if 
they were serious — and thus the fight went on, 
until the worsted swordsman was bleeding from 
many wounds — such ugly cuts as would scar his 
head and face for life. 

We thought the above scene was a pretty 
lively introduction to Heidelburg, about whose 
classic shades we had been reading from early 
youth. 

At night we drove over the Necker again, to 
view the illumination on the opposite heights. 
This illumination is given annually by the cit- 
izens in honor of the students, after they have 
passed their examinations. 

From our observation of these same students 



SWITZERLAND. 103 

we began to rate them as pretty lively chaps, and 
concluded there ought to be nothing tame in an 
illumination given in their honor — and there 
was not. 

At the signal, the firing of a cannon from an 
ancient port of the Castle, its massive walls sud- 
denly burst into a blaze of light, "from turret to 
foundation stone." This was taken up by the 
other castles along the heights and by the 
bridges and the boats in the river, until one was 
dazzled by the flash of rockets, and the general 
rejoicing and confusion. 

We had been fortunate in passing up the Rhine 
valley in the midst of the harvest season ; we 
thus had an opportunity to observe the peasant 
class at work. 

A number of harvest laborers came into a sta- 
tion where we were resting ; they laid down their 
harvest implements while they took their glass 
of beer. These we examined closely, and were 
surprised to see how primitive and crude they 
were as compared with ours in America. 

Their hay forks were simply a forked stick 
cut from the woods ; their cradles had a short 
blade, such as we call a "brier scythe," and 
also very short fingers; their flails, which they 
also carried, had a handle as long as a fork 
handle, and the flail end was about three inches 
thick with square corners. Such are the har- 
vest implements that can be seen in this age in 
enlightened Germany. 



104 SWITZERLAND. 

While passing through Baden, we noticed that 
the peasants very often work their cows for 
oxen, but use no yokes. The cattle pull alto- 
gether by their heads by straps fastened under 
their horns. In this way they pull in a line 
with their spinal column, and seem to draw 
light loads with more ease than do ours with 
the yoke and bow, which latter often twists and 
chokes the steer. In Italy, on the Campagna 
one sees them plowing with their buffalo oxen, 
four abreast, one yoke extending over all. 

In Europe one sees no fences on the farm lands ; 
wood is scarce, and even iron cross-ties are com- 
ing in use on the railroads. In our country the 
fences are said to cost more than all the dwell- 
ings and other buildings of every description. 

To-day in Lucerne we have spent the greater 
part of the time in walking on the banks of the 
beautiful lake, and gazing on the snow-capped 
mountains almost with awe, the prospect is so 
enchanting. 

Of course we visited the "Lion of Thorwald- 
sen" — hewn in the face of the solid rock, lies 
stretched in the agonies of death a dying lion, 
a broken spear piercing his side. This great work 
of the sculptor commemorates the Swiss soldiers, 
who laid down their lives to defend Louis XVI 
of France, 1792. They are commonly known as 
the "Swiss Guard," and eight hundred perished 
in their endeavor to defend the Tuileries and 



SWITZERLAND. 105 

that ill-starred monarch. Above the sculpture is 
carved in the rock the Latin legend: '^Helveti- 
orum Jidei virtiUi^'''' (The faith and valor of 
Switzerland!) 

This reminds us that we passed yesterday 
through Sempach, in the battle at which place 
Arnold von Winkelried broke through the Aus- 
trian phalanx, and "thus made way for liberty." 

At Stanz, seven miles from Lucerne, the na- 
tive place of this hero, on each anniversary of the 
battle, there is a grand festival and a gathering 
of the mountaineers from all the surrounding 
country — "For what avail the plow or sail, or 
land or life if freedom fail?" Stanz is also the 
place where Pestalozzi, the great Swiss teacher 
and educational reformer, first established his 
school. 

From Lucerne we went to the top of the 
"Rhigi Kulm,"one of the noted, isolated peaks 
of the Alps. Here is a fine hotel, where we 
passed the night, but were aroused at half-past 
three in the morning to view the sunrise from 
this great height. The Alpine horn echoed loud 
and long, before the sleepy travellers could be 
awakened from their slumbers; but it was well 
worth their while, for the day broke fair, and 
the sunrise scene of the gilded mountain peaks, 
and the glaciers were grand and beautiful beyond 
expression. The prospect from this mountain 
embraces a circuit of three hundred miles. 



106 SWITZERLAND. 

The peasant girls here sold the rare eidelweiss 
flower to the travelers ; they are not found on 
this mountain, but are brought by the guides 
from near the snow line of the tallest peaks. 

We descended the mountain by the railroad 
which is built on what is called "the rack and 
pinion system" — that is there are three rails 
with a cog-wheel that works under the locomo- 
tive and on the center rail. The locomotive is 
always placed below the passenger car, and only 
one car is taken at a time, as the gradient is one 
foot in four at the steepest point. 

We took the steamboat at Vitznaw, bound for 
Fluelen at the foot of the lake. From Fluelen to 
Milan, through the heart of the Alps, we passed 
through fifty-six tunnels and traveled twenty-five 
and a half miles under ground. The St. Gotthard 
tunnel proper, is nine and a half miles long — a 
mile or tw^o longer than the Mont Cenis tunnel. 
Here, on the St. Gotthard, the head springs of 
the Rhine, the Ehone and the Inn are within a 
stone's throw^ of each other. 

Lucerne is called the "Lake of the Four Forest 
Cantons" and the magnificence of its scenery, 
perhaps, is not surpassed in any country. Many 
places upon its beautiful banks are associated 
with noted events and traditions of Switzerland 
in her long struggle to maintain freedom. 



VENICE. 

Venice, August 2. 

We arrived in ancient Venice two days ago, 
and in the picturesque gondolas have floated up 
and down the Grand Canal and through many a 
winding way, looking upon the architectural dis- 
play of buildings whose glory has departed; but 
beauty still is here where "the sprinkled isles, 
lily on lily, o'erlace the sea." 

Magnificent palaces, adorned exteriorly by 
sculptures of most eminent artists, line these 
canals; they are now time- stained and falling to 
decay. Venice, we are told, is on eighty islands, 
and has one hundred and forty seven canals ;the 
Grand Canal being two miles long, winding in 
serpentine fashion through the city. This is the 
objective point of visitors and people of all races 
and countries are here to be seen. 

At the time of our arrival a great gondola 
race had just closed and we had an opportunity 
to see gondoliers in their gala-day costumes, blue, 
white, green, with orange and golden sashes, 
and their oriental caps, swarthy features, and 
dark, curly locks, lithe and graceful figures — 
they presented an appearance graceful in the 
107 



108 VENICE. 

extreme as they stood erect upon their beautiful 
boats and with long sweeps of the oar sent them 
rapidly through the water. 

The Grand Canal has been called by some one 
the greatest street in the world ; it must certainly 
be the strangest thoroughfare of all the earth ! 

In going to our hotel, "The Beau Rivage," 
we passed under the Rialto bridge, and also the 
Ponte dei Sos2)iri, or "Bridge of Sighs," which 
latter, Howells, theAmerican writer, calls ''a pa- 
thetic swindle." This bridge led from the 
criminal courts in the palace to the dungeons 
on the opposite side of the canal ; it was here 
that Byron stood at midnight with "a palace 
and a prison on either hand." 

We went down into the prisons which are dis- 
mal and awful in every detail ; here we entered 
"the cell of the condemned," where prisoners 
are kept for a few hours before execution. This 
cell contained a loose stone that might be used 
for a pillow, and that was all ; on this stone the 
condemned man might lay his head and sleep 
upon the granite floor, if sleep then could come 
to him. 

In the narrow passage leading to this room 
was a scant, barred window, after passing which 
the prisoner was never again permitted to see 
the light of the earth. The guide informed us 
that now there were about three hundred crimi- 
nals in these prisons but none in the condemned 
cell. 



VENICE. 109 

For nearly eleven hundred years Venice was 
governed by the Doges, and she was the ruler 
not only of the Adriatic, but her fleets controlled 
all the Mediterranean waters. 

Ruskin called Venice, as viewed by moonlight, 
"a golden city paved with emerald." Its long 
and wonderful history is written in the sculp- 
tures and paintings that adorn its walls, wrought 
by the master hands of Titian, Tintoretto, Paul 
Veronese and Canova. 

This is still one of the most religious cities of It- 
aly, and in these gorgeous churches prayer never 
ceases, night or day. 

In the square of St. Mark, surrounded by the 
church of St. Mark, the Doges' palace, the Kings' 
palace and the Campanile, the beauty and fash- 
ion of the city congregate at night to see and be 
seen. 

Here on the night of our arrival we walked 
along among the varied throng and listened 
to the soft and pleasant sound of the Venetian 
dialect. The scene was strange and attractive to 
us,being surrounded by more architectural beauty 
than we have seen in any other city. The sailors 
with their large ear-rings, the dark-eyed, lithe- 
some girls with their queenly step, the strange 
music, and the courteous and joyous bearing of 
all the vast throng, made a charming picture. 

We visited St. Marks Church in the morning, 
and wandered through the great rooms of the 



110 VENICE. 

Doges' palace, and gazed upon the glorious mas- 
ters, until our eyes when closed at night could 
still see pictures. 

There is one feature about these paintings and 
frescoes that seems astonishing. They are as 
fresh and bright to-day as if the artist had 
painted them yesterday. This is accounted for 
by the fact that this is the only city in the 
world where there are no horses and streets and 
no dust ; and here the paintings of the old mas- 
ters are fresher and brighter than in other cities. 

We visited the "Church of the Frari" which 
may be called the Pantheon of Venice, as many 
of her gifted sons are here buried, while some 
of their best works adorn the church. Titian 
and Canova are buried here under monuments 
of such exquisite workmanship as to be worthy 
of their genius. 

We saw in the Library of the "Doges' palace" 
the "Golden Book" in which are recorded the 
coats of arms, and the pedigrees of the Doges, 
and viewed an autograph letter of Gallileo, and 
the writing of Dante. Then we were compelled 
to take our departure from this strange, unique 
city of the sea. 



ROME. 

"The hand that rounded Peter's dome, 

And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, 

Wrought in sad sincerity. 

Himself from God he could not free; 

He builded better than he knew: 

The conscious stone to beauty grew." 

Rome, Augusts, 1892. 

Yesterday, we visited St. Peter's, traversed 
its immense nave and aisles, and gazed with 
wonder upon its stupendous dimensions and 
with admiration upon the works of Bramante 
and Michael Angelo. 

It seems as if heaven had endowed Angelo 
with gifts supernatural; at once architect, 
painter, poet, sculptor, and in each excelling 
the best of the best. 

We are told, three hundred and fifty years 
passed away and forty-three Popes reigned dur- 
ing the time from the commencement of St. 
Peters to its completion. It is now the largest 
church in the world. The ceiling of the Sistine 
Chapel is regarded as the culminating effort of 
modern art, and none but the master hand of 
Michael Angelo, a painter in architectural ef- 
fects without peer, could have produced the life- 
Ill 



112 ROME. 

like figures that stand forth on these walls, the 
admiration of pilgrims from every country. 

"The best prophet of the future is the past;'^ 
then what lessons are to be read here in Rome 
— in marble, in bronze, in painting, and in her 
vast ruins. Those who can read — may read in 
the bas-reliefs on the columns of Trajan and 
Antoninus the history of their times and deeds 
as plainly as the day on which they were writ- 
ten. 

Last night we drove to the Colosseum and 
walked alone through its gigantic arches. The 
moon was shining, making golden bands across 
the dark shadows and all was silent, as we were 
the only ones within the vast ruins where in the 
olden times 87,000 spectators had applauded 
the contests of gladiators and wild beasts. If 
these mighty walls could repeat the sounds they 
have echoed, the darkest page in history could 
be written. 

In the days of Augustus, the "Imperial" city 
must have numbered two millions of people ; 
some historians claim that it then contained 
seven million. 

We saw to-day the marble font in which 
Constantine the Great, the first Christian em- 
peror of Rome, was baptized; also, the marble 
slab on which Charlemagne stood when he was 
crowned emperor. 

And here lived Virgil, "that landscape lover^ 



ROME. 113 

lord of language;" and Cicero, the orator and 
great master of composition ; and Livy with his 
wonderful powers of description ; and Tasso, the 
epic poet; and Tacitus, the historian, with his 
profound insight into the dark recesses of hu- 
man conduct; all were here and have passed 
away. 

Rome since the consolidation of the kingdom 
has made rapid strides in modern improvements 
and may still be considered one of the beautiful 
cities of the world. Its streets, public squares, 
churches, palaces, and multitudes of public build- 
ings, built in a style of elegance and solidity ;its 
obelisks and columns, its fountains decorated 
with artistic taste, dispensing pure water to 
every part of the city ; and its master pieces of 
scientific painting and architecture, ancient and 
modern, together with its delightful climate — 
present a picture so vast and varied that it may 
still be regarded as one of the most interesting 
cities of the world. And of "Rome the lone 
mother of dead empires, ' ' the lines of Propertius, 
the elegiac poet, may still be appropriate : 

''^Omnia Romanae cedant, miracidae terrae^ 
Natura hie potuit^ quidquid uhiquefecit.^'' 

In our brief intercourse with them we have 
been pleased with the citizens ; they are very 
courteous and of a grave, thoughtful demeanor. 
They seem to be fond of music and street par- 



114 ROME. 

acles, and of spectacles; and all this we know, 
descends to them as natural heirs, when we re- 
call the pageants of ancient times, when Rome 
collected here the spoils of conquered nations ; 
and when her conquerors, such as Pompey the 
Great, marched three hundred captive princes 
before his triumphal car. 

We visited to-day the Convent of the Cap- 
uchin Friars and saw a number of rooms 
adorned — if that word may be properly used in 
such a connection — with the bones of their dead 
monks ! 

Jaw bones were arranged together ; tibulas, 
fibulas, pelvis bones, skulls, heads of femurs, 
ribs, scapulas and various bones of the body 
were thus classified, and arranged in bunches of 
flowers ; center pieces, border pieces, and nu- 
merous forms, very like ornamental shell work ! 
It was a gruesome sight and the ladies would 
fain have avoided it. This afternoon we drove 
four miles outside the city, along the famous 
Appian Way. A mile from the walls of the city 
we came to the church caWed,^^ Domine Quo Va- 
dis^^^ because as tradition has it, when Peter 
the Apostle was driven from the city through 
persecution — when he had arrived at this spot 
he here met the Saviour bearing the Cross — and 
said to him — "0 Domine Quo VaclisT'' In proof 
of this tradition, the foot-print of the naked 
foot of the Savior is still to be seen in the mar- 



ROME. 115 

ble of the old pathway of the Appian "Way ! 
Here it was that the church referred to was built. 

We pursued our journey along this road, view- 
ing the tombs of those who had been great and 
powerful in their day; for it was such as these 
alone, who were honored with a tomb along the 
Appia. We passed the tomb of Seneca, and 
approached the site of the villa where Cicero 
had lived, and then returned to the Church of 
St. Sebastian. At this point we entered the 
famous Catacombs of Rom<^, but we were some- 
what disappointed in them. 

On Sunday morning we visited the museum 
and the Capitoline Hill, one of the famous hills 
on which the "Imperial" city sat, and "from 
her throne of beauty ruled the world." We 
looked with much interest on the portrait bust 
of Julius Caesar, and also upon that of Brutus, 
and upon the rare beauty of "Venus of Capi- 
tola," and upon many other things, at which 
we could only glance. 

We saw the plac3 at which the infamous 
Caligula was assassinated, and also that where 
Rienzi, "the last of the tribunes," fell; and 
where the envious Casca and Brutus too, stabbed 
Csesar, "the noblest Roman of them all." 

Ilex trees and gardens now grow on the top 
of the debris that covers a portion of the Palace 
of the Caesars. 

Excavations at Rome, of late years, have re- 



116 ROME. 

vealed much of its ancient history. One of the 
guard rooms of Caesar's Palace was laid bare, 
and showed markings on the walls made by the 
heathen soldiers who were on duty here, so many 
centuries ago. Now, it is evident from the 
writings on these walls that there were Chris- 
tians among the soldiers of Tiberius ; it is also 
made apparent that they were persecuted and 
derided by their heathen comrades-in-arms. On 
the wall of the guard room of Tiberius was 
found the first representation of the Crucifixion 
that was, perhaps, ever made. 

It was made by one of these barbarian soldiers 
with his spear or some other sharp implement — 
traced in the plaster, there to remain, and to be 
uncovered from the debris nearly two thousand 
years later. This drawing consists of the figure 
of a man's body with an ass' head suspended 
upon a cross. Underneath is written in ancient 
Greek, the inscription: "This is the God of 
Alexamenos!" Later there was unearthed, in 
the adjoining room, the reply of Alexamenus to 
his persecutor. There was found a cross, most 
carefully drawn, and a figure kneeling before it 
in a devout attitude. Underneath was written 
the legend in Latin: ^^Alexamenes lidelis^'''' 
Alexamenus the faithful ! 

It is a curious circumstance that the first pic- 
ture of the Crucifixion is this crude drawing, 
made by a heathen in sacrilegious derision ! 



KOME. 117 

On the day of our departure we left Rome at 
one o'clock for Naples, and arrived there a little 
before seven p. m. Until about three o'clock 
the heat was intense, and the country we passed 
through was barren and desolate in the extreme ; 
but as we approached Naples, where the land 
had been irrigated, there were fair crops of corn, 
and also of bamboo and hemp. We saw Vesu- 
vius smoking in the distance, but there was no 
fire issuing from its crater. 



POMPEII. 

On our way to Pompeii we crossed the bay to 
Capri, which island is distant fourteen miles 
from Naples. The morning w^as fair and the 
sky blue, and the Bay of Naples seemed worthy 
of all the praise that has ever been lavished upon 
it. Before leaving the anchorage some swarthy 
divers came around the vessel, and gave us an 
exhibition of their skill in diving to great depths 
to recover the coins the passengers tossed into 
the water. 

Our sail across the bay to Capri was one of 
perfect enjoyment, and to those unfamiliar with 
the scene, it was as if they sailed on enchanted 
waters. The rocky sides of Capri are terraced, 
and it is planted with olive trees and grape 
vines. Here we went in the small boats and 
entered a strange, weird cavern called, "The 
Blue Grotto." The entrance is low and narrow 
and can only be entered when the sea is calm. 
Visitors from afar come to view the strange 
beauties of this cavern, which are, perhaps, 
produced by the deep blue cast of the water, 
which in turn is produced by the deep blue of 
the sky ; another peculiar effect is produced by 
118 



POMPEII. 119 

the phosphorescent quality of the water — for the 
divers swimming here seem as molten images — 
every limb in motion — as if made of living fire. 
The effect is startling. 

Tiberius, that imperious emperor, lived on 
this island in the latter years of his life, and a 
small cliff is pointed out which is called "Tibe- 
rius' Leap;" for from this point he caused slaves 
to be thrown over to their destruction, merely 
that he might witness their anguish and terror, 
in the face of death ! 

We sailed from Capri to Sorrento where we 
left the vessel ; this town is built upon a tall 
cliff, from which, it is said, one has the finest 
view that can be obtained of the Bay of Naples. 
This is the birth-place of Tasso, and a fine monu- 
ments tands here to his memory. The streets are 
mean and narrow, but several fine hotels crown 
the heights overlooking the bay ; these are re- 
sorted to by many summer visitors. At the 
time of our visit this place was the residence of 
F. Marion Crawford, the novelist. 

We drove from Capri, fifteen miles around the 
ba/, to Pompeii ; the day was intensely hot at 
the time, and we suffered very much from the heat. 

At Pompeii we viewed the things that have 
been so often described, and also some new 
objects of interest that had just been unearthed. 
We found a email number of workmen, men and 
boys, digging in a room lately discovered ; they 



120 POMPEII. 

used light picks and shovels and baskets to re- 
move the ashes that had belched forth from the 
volcano of Vesuvius in the year '79 and envel- 
oped and buried the place. 

All the houses are one story, some of them 
beautifully adorned with frescoed walls, columns 
and tile flooring. This was a fashionable resort 
of the wealthy Roman people, and here they had 
their summer residences. 

We removed with our cane the ashes from the 
side of a column in the house where we found 
the men and boys at work. We dug down for 
two or three feet for the ashes were very light 
and easily moved. We were astonished to find 
the fresco painting on this column as bright 
and fresh as if it had just been finished, although 
it had not seen the light of day for 1800 years ! 

On the wall of the room, from which the 
workmen had just removed the ashes, we saw 
the drawing of a ship that had been cut in the 
plaster with a knife, apparently from its height, 
done by a boy or some person of low stature ; 
there it remained, plain and fresh, a very good 
representation of a craft still seen on these wa- 
ters — drawn by some boy nearly two thousand 
years ago ! 

Casts of the bodies that have perished here 
are obtained in the following manner : the ex- 
plorer probes about with an iron rod in the de- 
bris until a hollow place is found ; from 



POMPEII. 121 

this he removes the rod and into the hole pours 
a solution of plaster of paris, and when it is set 
the ashes are removed. In this way an exact 
cast is made of the body that has decayed and 
left its mold in the pumice stone that enveloped 
the doomed city. 

These are most ghastly and lifelike images, 
exactly true in their minutest detail ; and it is 
pitiful — the expressions of pain and horror de- 
picted upon the countenances of those who per- 
ished here. 

Our best knowledge of ancient painting before 
the Christian era is obtained from Pompeii, and 
the better class of houses are adorned with very 
beautiful mosaic pavements. 

The buried site of this ancient town, lying 
beneath the vineyards and mulberry grounds, 
was accidentally discovered by a peasant in dig- 
ging a well, in the year 1748. Excavations have 
been made here in a small way continuously 
since that time. Now about one third of Pom- 
peii is uncovered, and on the remaining portion 
grow Indian corn and other crops. 

By this discovery a flood of light has been 
thrown upon ancient life, in all its details, so 
that we may picture to ourselves the habits, 
manners and customs of those who lived here ; a 
knowledge more accurate and minute than can 
be obtained from ancient literature. 

In the "Museo Borbonico," in Naples, we 



122 POMPEII. 

viewed the most important relics taken from the 
buried city ; household utensils, surgical instru- 
ments, mechanical tools, paintings and statuary, 
rings and cameos, and jewelry of exquisite 
workmanship — all tending to show that those 
who lived here two thousand years ago were 
scarcely inferior to this age in the comforts and 
refinements of life. 



THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 

Some one has made an estimate of the time it 
would take to see the World's Fair in detail if 
two minutes were given to each exhibit, and he 
concludes that it could be done in thirty-two 
years. This is probably incorrect and an under 
statement of the facts ; at least no sane person 
would attempt to gain a comprehensive know- 
ledge of the Fair in that way. We propose to 
write merely a few notes, taken daily, in pass- 
ing through the "Midway Plaisance," but of 
the Fair proper, only a few sentences of general 
impressions. 

We saw a stalwart Texan, with all the insou- 
ciance of his kind, walk into the Midway Plai- 
sance. He had just come from the bewilderment 
of the ' 'White City," and his thoughts were 
doubtless still in that dreamland. But he had not 
gone far before his listless air vanished and he 
stood agape at the fantastic scenes presented in 
this pleasure ground of the barbaric nations. 

The student of human nature is edified even 

in observing children at play, as there is gained 

a knowledge of temperament, natural aptitude, 

and an insight into individual traits. And here 

123 



124 THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 

are the children of nature, the uncivilized races, 
and the semi-civilized races, those interesting 
types of mankind, some of whom not so long ago 
would have eaten the sightseers with the same 
relish with which they ate of the blubber of the 
sea-horse! This is not a pleasant reflection, 
yet we shall observe these foreign folks with no 
less interest on that account, even if we do note 
with feelings of some aversion the strong white 
teeth of the dusky cannibal race who may have 
employed them in eating human flesh in the 
recent past. 

It happened that we stopped at the Lapp Vil- 
lage among the first places visited. The Lap- 
landers are short of stature ; the average man is 
five feet, and the women about four feet. They 
are of a dingy, pale color, weak-eyed, broad- 
mouthed, and appear strong and stupid. They 
have their huts which they brought with them 
across the water. Here one may study their 
every-day life, which is interesting as showing 
the struggle for existence in their inhospitable 
country. They have their sleds, snow shoes, 
and one reindeer which is all that is left of thir- 
teen they brought a few weeks since from Lap- 
land. The climate of Chicago has proven fatal 
to the reindeer accustomed to sniff the air of the 
North Cape. The king of the Lapps, a stolid 
old man, is here. His name is "King Bull," and 
it is said that he owns three thousand reindeer, 



THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 125 

which would make his fortune about fifty thou- 
sand dollars, but to use a colloquial expression, 
'*he does not look it." 

From Lapland we went to Switzerland, which 
is a long distance to travel within the space of a 
few minutes. Here we saw the panorama of the 
Swiss Alps, the glaciers, moraines, and snow 
covered peaks. Far down in the valley was 
heard the alpine horn, and the chamois were seen 
scaling the dangerous path; and by looking 
closely one could detect the meager flora of those 
heights, and even the rare edelweiss, the queen 
flower of the Alps. As the gloom of night fell, 
lights shone from cottage windows whence is- 
sued the sounds of voices singing the mountain 
songs, dear to the Switzer's heart. The whole 
scene was natural and lifelike. 

As electricity is the special study of this age, 
and the science now being developed, we were 
induced to visit next in ihe "Midway," "The 
Electric Scenic Theatre." Here electricity is 
used to produce landscape effects, shades, shad- 
ows and perspective with marvelous accuracy. 
We had studied for some time in the Electric 
Building of the World's Fair, but of this we can- 
not at present speak; our task is limited to the 
"Plaisance," and besides, we must not be drawn 
by the fascinations of science from the more in- 
teresting study of man, though it is of man of 
the lower types ; he has still that vital spark, 



126 THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 

that torch of humanity, which will glow when 
the wheels of all machines have stopped, and 
the hum of industry is silent. 

In the streets of old Cairo one soon forgets 
such reflections, and enters into the spirit of the 
place, which sets one back two hundred years 
from this year of grace. One familiar with 
that city has said: "This street is more like old 
Cairo than Cairo itself." The houses, the Arabs, 
the Fellahs, the donkeys, the camels and the 
venders are the same ; but the fair American 
girls who ride on the donkeys and camels in the 
Cairo streets of the Midway, differ from the 
dark, veiled women of the Nile, more than the 
lily differs from the sunflower. This is perhaps 
the most popular place in the Plaisance, if not 
the most instructive; yet what does one care for 
instruction, when all is life, bustle and jollity, 
and the gay jest and the jocund laugh are 
heard, as the women and children ride by on 
camels and donkeys, driven by Arab boys who 
call out, "like up!" meaning "look out," as 
they drive the ungainly camel through the 
crowded streets. The tout ensemble of the scene 
is oriental and strange to western eyes. 

On leaving the fair grounds proper, just to 
the right as you enter the -'3Iidway" is the in- 
ternational beauty show, veiled under the mod- 
est title, "The International Dress Costume 
Co." One conjures up visions of statuesque 



THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 127 

Circassians, and Houri from Mingrelia; and 
enters expecting these illusions to be dispelled, 
but not so ! for here are as fair types as one 
could see in a journey around the world. The 
young men of the party, who have keen taste 
in such matters, awarded the mead of beauty to 
the English girl, and next in order as named : 
the Scotch, Welch, Polish, Greek, and so on. A 
dark girl from Syria was an interesting type. 

A reporter was questioning the Scotch "las- 
sie," as we passed, and she replied in low, sweet 
tones; "Everything is very grand and fine here 
in America, but I wad nae live here alway, sir; 
I am frae Caithness." Her cheeks flushed and 
she showed emotion, as she spoke of her home, 
and it was easy to see that her heart was still 
in the Highlands. 

The costumes of these girls from the different 
nations were in many instances very pictur- 
esque ; they represented about thirty nationali- 
ties. A girl from Paris displayed one of Worth's 
finest costumes; yet some of the others, in their 
simple, native dress, adorning modest beauty, 
were more attractive. 

If time would permit we should write of many 
more scenes witnessed in this pleasure ground of 
nations. Here is the place to study character 
and to gain a knowledge of the strange people 
of the earth. 

Of the World's Fair proper, books will be 



128 THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 

written and the influence that will radiate from 
here will set the world forward at least a gener- 
ation in arts, science, and learning and all that 
pertains to the welfare of man. 

It is impossible through mere words for the 
mind to form any adequate conception of scenes 
of such magnitude and splendor. But the glo~ 
rious vision of this incomparable "White City," 
with its noble facades and clustered spires, up- 
reared to the sky, once pictured on the retina in 
youth will live in the memory till the eyes have 
grown dim to the fading light of the world. 

In the old Bible days, Philip came and an- 
nounced to Nathaniel the happening of the 
most hopeful and amazing event that ever af- 
fected human destiny; but he doubting that 
such things could be as narrated by Philip, that 
apostle simply replied: "Come and see." 



AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 

John James Audubon, an American ornitholo- 
gist of great eminence, was born in Louisiana 
in the year 1780. He was the son of a French 
naval officer who had settled as a planter in 
that state. When very young he had a passion 
for observing the habits of birds; he made many 
sketches of them and disclosed considerable 
talent as a draughtsman. He was sent to Paris 
to be educated and studied design in the school 
of David, the first painter under Napoleon the 
Great, and especially distinguished for his 
draughtsmanship. 

Audubon proved himself worthy of such a 
master, and on his return to his native country 
two years later he settled on the banks of the 
Schuylkill, in Pennsylvania, where he owned a 
farm. Here he passed ten years of his life in 
researches into the habits of birds, in his draw- 
ings of them and in painting them by hand in 
lifelike colors. It was during these years that 
he laid the foundation of the great work which 
he afterward produced. 

However, it was fated that he was not to 
use the material here collected, for a great trial 
129 



130 AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 

now befell him when, after having accumulated 
a large stock of the most carefully executed de- 
signs, he discovered that the whole of them had 
been destroyed by mice. This was a greater 
disaster than the fabled loss of Newton's scien- 
tific manuscript; for while that was a mere 
tradition, the loss of Audubon was real and al- 
most irreparable. Yet he possessed that extra- 
ordinary strength of mind that enabled him to 
view his loss with serenity, and to patiently 
begin again the work of jesivs. 

He moved to Henderson on the Ohio River, 
where he lived for several years with his wife and 
children. He now commenced a series of excur- 
sions through the vast, primeval forest which he 
explored alone, and in which he passed the 
greater portion of his time for many years. He 
produced colored designs of all the birds he 
could find, being impelled to this pursuit by his 
love of nature, rather than an ambition to make 
himself famous. 

In 1826 he went to England, and in London 
began the publication of his great work, "The 
Birds of America." He was everywhere received 
by learned societies and scientific men with the 
utmost cordiality and enthusiasm. Among his 
warmest admirers in Great Britain were Sir 
Walter Scott, Francis Jeffrey and John Wilson ; 
and in Paris, Cuvier, St. Hiliaire, Humbolt, and 
other savants. 



AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 131 

He obtained a hundred subscribers to his 
magnificent work at one thousand dollars 
a copy. It was in folio, illustrated with about 
four hundred and forty-eight plates of one thou- 
sand and sixty-five species of birds of natural 
size, beautifully colored. It consists of five 
volumes of engravings, designed by himself, and 
five volumes of letter press. 

The French naturalist Cuvier, who was him- 
self accounted as "the father of comparative 
anatomy," said of Audubon's "Birds of Amer- 
ica:" "It is the most magnificent monument 
that art has ever erected to ornithology." This 
work cannot be purchased now at any price. 

After Audubon returned to America he ex- 
plored the coasts, the lakes, the rivers and the 
mountains, from Labrador and Canada to Flor- 
ida. He crossed the ocean several times after 
this and lived to prepare smaller editions to his 
great work, and also a work on quadrupeds. 

To an excellent skill in designing natural ob- 
jects, he added an admirable talent for describ- 
ing them in graphic language. 

His character is thus eulogized by Prof. 
Wilson of the Edinburg University. 

"The hearts of all warmed toward Audubon 
who were capable of conceiving the difficulties, 
dangers and sacrifices that must have been en- 
countered, endured and overcome, before genius 
could have embodied these, the glory of its 



132 AUDrBON AND THE BIRDS. 

innumerable triumphs. The man himself is just 
what you would expect from his production, 
full of fine enthusiasm and intelligence, most 
interesting in looks and manners, a perfect gen- 
tleman, and esteemed by all who know him for 
the simplicity and frankness of his nature. He 
is the greatest artist in his own walk that has 
ever lived." 

It is interesting to note that the favorite bird 
of this great master was the wood-thrush. This 
small brown bird is but little known except to 
those familiar with the woods. It is shy and 
retiring, frequenting thick woods and tangled 
undergrowth. Its form is stout, the general 
color is rufous brown above, lighter on the head, 
pure white below, with numerous blackish spots 
on breast and sides. It is smaller than either 
the robin or the brown thrush. The nest is 
placed in a bush or the fork of a sapling — very 
often a dogwood — and is constructed without 
mud; the eggs are from four to six and of a 
greenish blue color. 

The wood-thrush is the last bird heard at 
night and the first at the dawn of day. When 
the first rays of dawn penetrate the gloomy re- 
cesses of the forest aisles, its powerful, clear and 
mellow notes break upon the silence, rising and 
falling in gentle cadence. Its notes are few, 
yet they are very pleasing. 



AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 133 

"The song of the wood-thrush thrills sweet through 

the wood. 
So flute-like and clear, the ecstatic prelude." 

In "Doddridge's Notes," which are regarded 
as original authority relating to the pioneer his- 
tory of West Virginia, the author says: "The 
crow and the blackbird and the great variety of 
singing birds were not natives of the primeval for- 
ests, but followed in the path of emigration." 

Now in the fields and groves are found all the 
species known to this latitude, there being over 
forty varieties of the warbler family alone. These 
birds are now "native and to the manner born," 
and it were better to study them in the woods 
and the fields than to read about strange birds 
of distant countries that we may never see, and 
whose songs may never add to our enjoyment. 
The same is true of the study of the flowers, the 
plants and the trees that are before us in the 
book of nature. 

Observation is the basis of original thought, 
and the youth who acquires a habit of atten- 
tively observing objects of nature will grow in 
this knowledge, unlearned of books, as he grows 
in stature. He will learn to give heed to the 
songs of birds and his ear will become attuned 
to the pounds of the field and the forest. His 
eye will detect the changing hues of the sky, 
the tiny flower, the majestic tree and the beauty 
in iill things will brighten and cheer his pathway. 



134 AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 

But the world must ever appear as different to 
individuals as their minds are diverse. To one 
it will always be a .narrow place, paved with 
hard dollars, with but little of the blue sky above; 
to another mind it must remain a wonderful if 
not a pleasant world; for the whole globe, men 
and things, and the vicissitudes of life will lie 
within the power of its comprehension. 

But these are the extremes ; the masses of 
humanity trudge between the two in devious 
paths, with unequal knowledge and with unequal 
powers of enjoying the gifts of the Creator. 



THE 22nd day OF FEBRUARY. 

REFLECTIONS UPON WASHINGTON. 

General Washington owned 10,000 acres of 
land in one body at Mt. Vernon, which he farmed 
upon a very large scale, especially for that day. 
Here he employed 250 hands and kept 24 plows 
going all the year, when the weather would per- 
mit. In the year 1787 he sowed 600 bushels of 
oats and 700 acres of wheat, besides other crops. 
At that time he had 140 horses, 112 cows and 
other stock in proportion. He rode around his 
farm every day unless the weather was very 
stormy, and he was constant!}" making various 
and extensive experiments for the improvement 
of agriculture. He said that he loved the re- 
tirement of his home above all things and that 
it was with regret that he left it to assume the 
command of the army or to take the presiden- 
tial chair. 

All contemporary accounts agree that 
Washington was a man of dignified and impos- 
ing presence. He was six feet, two inches in 
height; the muscular development of his form 
was perfect, and he never at any period of his 
life became too stout for easy and graceful move- 
135 



136 THE 22nd DAY OF FEBRUARY. 

ments. Custis says : "His complexion was fair 
but considerably florid." His hair was brown, 
his eyes blue. He was scrupulously attentive to 
the proprieties of dress and personal appearance; 
his manner was gracious and gentle ; yet he was 
a diffident man, and always maintained a certain 
military reserve when in public. He was a fear- 
less and skillful horseman, and rode to the 
hounds with the keen zest of a sportsman. 

Washington was forty-three years of age 
when appointed by the Continental Congress to 
command the army of the Revolution. It has 
been somewhat the custom in modern times to 
decry his military ability ; but this is done 
chiefly by those "who never set a squadron in 
the field," nor looked upon the storm of battle. 
The "elements were so mixed in him," and such 
was the admirable equipoise of all his faculties 
that he was perhaps, in practical wisdom, the 
peer of any man that ever lived. 

In the light of history, in looking back now 
at the events of the Revolution, we can but 
believe if any one of our ablest generals, such 
as Green, Wayne, Morgan or Gates had been in 
chief command, that the raw, undisciplined 
forces of the Continentals would have been 
crushed by the well-drilled regulars of the Brit- 
ish on the plains of New Jersey, if not before 
that time. Washington well knew the charac- 
ter of each army, both of officers and men, and 



THE 22nd day OF FEBRUARY. 137 

he knew that it would be necessary to act on the 
defensive, and to husband all the resources of 
his little army, otherwise there could be no hope 
for the cause of liberty. 

Neither public clamor nor gross abuse, nor the 
calls of ambition, could divert him from his 
steady purpose, nor cause him to make with his 
army one rash or ill-considered maneuver. He 
possessed enterprise and prudence, and in his 
tact and forbearance in dealing with men, 
he has had no superior among our modern 
generals. 

It was barely possible for the Continental 
army to gain the victory through the patient, 
long drawn struggle of eight years; but it would 
have been impossible for it to have been success- 
ful had it faced the British regulars in open, de- 
cisive battles, especially in the earlier part of 
the war. By the latter method the Continental 
troops would have been decimated and scattered 
and the liberty of this country would have per- 
ished with them. 

By pursuing a safe and patient course, Wash- 
ington, with his ragged Continentals, was enabled 
for eight years to confront the armies of Great 
Britain, and through his indomitable courage 
and wisdom, he prevailed against his powerful 
adversary and finally succeeded in planting the 
tree of liberty on this soil, where now its branches 
overspread the continent. 



138 THE 22nd DAY OF FEBRUARY. 

In remembrance of our obligations, it is a sa- 
cred duty to commemorate the birthday of this 
illustrious man , and in every country where op- 
pressed men are struggling for freedom they 
find inspiration and hope in the glorious example 
of Washington. 

At the close of his farewell address, which 
was in times past the Palladium of our elder, if 
not abler statesmen, he says with pathetic ear- 
nestness : "In offering you, my countrymen, these 
counsels of an old and affectionate friend, I dare 
not hope that they will make the strong and 
lasting impression I could wish ; that they will 
control the usual current of the jDassions, or pre- 
vent our nation from running the course which 
has hitherto marked the destiny of nations; but 
if I may even flatter myself that they may be 
productive of some partial benefit, some occa- 
sional good, that they may now and then recur 
to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn 
against the importunities of pretended patriot- 
ism , this hope will be a full recompense for the 
solicitude for your welfare, by which they have 
been dictated." 

In speaking of the unconscious errors he may 
have committed, he continues; "Whatever they 
may be I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert 
or mitigate the evils to which they may tend. 
I shall carry, with me the hope that my country 
will never cease to view them with indulgence ; 



THE 22nd day OF FEBRUARY. 139 

and that after forty-five years of my life dedica- 
ted to its service v^ith an upright zeal, the faults 
of incompetent abilities will be consigned to ob- 
livion, as myself must soon be to the mansions 
of rest." 



AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 

GEN. GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 

The local records of the town of Clarksburg, 
W. Va., show that at an early meeting of the 
settlers at this place, the name for the town was 
suggested and adopted, in honor of Gen. Clark. 
This meeting was held sometime prior to Octo- 
ber 1785, for it was then that the town was in- 
corporated. 

This was probably the first public recognition 
of the services of this able officer, who had wrest- 
ed the Northwest Territory from the British 
and Indians, and had held it against all odds, 
under circumstances of peculiar hardships, and 
as it proved in the end, at the sacrifice of his per- 
sonal fortune. 

It is a regrettable circumstance that our mod- 
ern historians have almost ignored the services 
of G-en. Claik. He was doubtless, in a military 
point of view, one of the most accomplished 
and useful officers that served on the western 
frontier in the war of the Revolution. 

It is seldom that a military officer whose ser- 
vices have redounded in results of such vast im- 
portance to his country, has gone to his grave 
140 



AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 141 

unrewarded and forgotten, save, perhaps, by the 
descendants of the hardy pioneers who shared 
with him the toils and dangers of the border 
warfare. 

Until quite recently, one was compelled to 
search the original writings of pioneer times in 
order to give even a brief sketch of his life. 

George Rogers Clark was born near Charlott- 
esville, Virginia, in 1752. In early life he was 
a farmer and a surveyor. He first appeared upon 
the scene of public action, as a captain in Dun- 
more' s War; but further than this we have been 
unable to learn any particulars of him at this 
period. 

Upon the breaking out of the Revolution, he 
soon became distinguished as one of the most 
active leaders of the frontiersmen, in their he- 
roic efforts to protect the border settlements from 
the incursion of the Indians. Patriotism and a 
laudable desire for military fame seem to have 
been the predominant traits of his character. He 
rallied the backwoodsmen at points of danger ; 
led counter attacks against the Indians ; built 
block-houses and forts, and, although quite a 
young man, displayed such great courage, firm- 
ness and military skill in all these exploits, that 
whenever he appeared upon the border, he was 
the acknowledged leader of the backwoodsmen. 

He led through the wilderness the party of 
pioneers who made the first settlement at the 



142 AN HISTOKICAL SKETCH. 

falls of the Ohio river, where the city of Louis- 
ville now stands, and he was its able defender 
during the subsequent years of savage war- 
fare. 

Before leaving the immediate border of Vir- 
ginia, however, he is said to have made the plan 
for Fort Henry at Wheeling ; and which after- 
wards withstood several fierce assaults, and one 
four-days siege from the Indians. It was here 
that Elizabeth Zane performed that valorous act 
which has been celebrated by the painter and 
the poet; but as Kipling says, "that is another 
story." 

In June 1775, a meeting of the settlers of Ken- 
tucky known as, "The Dark and Bloody ground," 
and then a part of Virginia, took place at Har- 
rodstown. Their object was to secure the aid 
of the Commonwealth in defense of their homes. 
They selected Clark and one other to represent 
them before the General Assembly then in ses- 
sion at Williamsburg, the capital of the state. 

Clark and his companion started upon their 
long journey through the unbroken wilderness ; 
but when after many days they reached Fincas- 
tle, they learned to their regret, that the As- 
sembly had adjourned. 

Clark's companion then returned to the woods, 
but he himself proceeded to the residence of 
Governor Patrick Henry in Hanover County. He 
found the Governor lying sick at home, but he 



AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 143 

listened with interest while Clark explained the 
object of his journey. 

This soldier from the woods, at the same time 
made known to the Governor the bold and dar- 
ing scheme he had formed for the reduction of 
the British posts in the Illinois country. Clark 
found in Governor Henry a man of similar spirit 
to his own; he cordially approved the hazardous 
plans he had formed, and gave him a letter to 
that effect, directed to the Council of State. 
Clark appeared before that body and presented 
his petition in August 1776. He received from 
the authorities an order for five hundred pounds 
of powder to be delivered to him at Ft. Pitt. He 
at the same time received a colonel's commission 
with a warrant to raise a regiment, and was or- 
dered to protect the settlers in Kentucky. 

These were orders from the state authorities 
that were made public ; but he had induced them 
through his appeals, and by the sanction of Gov- 
ernor Henry, to give him the secret order to at- 
tack the British post of Kaskaskia in the Illi- 
nois country. This last order Clark did not di- 
vulge to his officers and men for many w^eeks, 
not until the opportune moment had arrived for 
its execution. 

It appears that Clark's Expedition started 
down the Ohio river from "Red Stone Old Fort," 
with only three companies, which had been re- 
cruited in the counties of Fauquier, Frederick, 
and the country west of the Blue Ridge. 



144 AN HISTOiaCAL SKETCH. 

When his boats had arrived at the mouth of 
the Great Kanawha, he found that the post there 
had been attacked the day before by the savages ; 
and because he would not stop to pursue them, 
he received censure from those who did not 
know of his more important plans. 

Floating day after day with the current, the 
expedition finally reachtd the Falls of the Ohio 
where Fort JefPerson was erected. Here Clark 
received some reinforcements, which increased 
his command to four companies, less than four 
hundred men. 

Col. Clark then announced to his officers and 
men the true object of the expedition, and on 
June 24, 1778, his boats passed the Falls of the 
Ohio, and the expedition was fairly launched 
that was destined to change the boundary line of 
the nation. 

When the boats had reached a point not far 
from the mouth of the Wabash, Col. Clark landed 
with a part of his command; he ordered the oth- 
ers to proceed with the boats and the baggage 
to the mouth of the Ohio, and thence to Kaskas- 
kia on the river of that name, one mile east of 
the Mississippi. 

He then marched across the country by the 
most direct route for the same place. When he 
emerged from the woods in sight of the village 
of Kaskaskia, the inhabitants were as surprised 
as if he had dropped from the clouds. He took 



AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 145 

the precaution to inarch his men in a circuitous 
manner past an opening in the timber which 
led the enemy to count them two or three times 
without discovering the artifice. 

Then with a part of his men he advanced 
against the fort with his flag displayed, and 
sternly demanded the unconditional surrender of 
the garrison. 

Rocheblave, the commandant of the fort, dis- 
mayed at the sudden apparition of an armed 
force, dropped upon him from the clouds as 
it were , and with an exaggerated idea of the 
force of his enemy, surrendered at discretion. 

Col. Clark then proceeded as rapidly as possi- 
ble to the British post of Cahokia, about sixty 
miles north of Kaskaskia and four miles south 
of the present site of East St. Louis. Here also 
he succeeded in capturing this garrison without 
bloodshed. 

These conquests were achieved before the ar- 
rival of the main body of his forces from the 
boats, and were made known through spies to 
the British Governor, Hamilton, of Detroit, 
then at the post of Vincennes on the Wabash. 
Gov. Hamilton was apprised at the same time 
of the small force by which the forts were cap- 
tured. He immediately took steps to collect a 
large force, in order to surprise the Americans, 
and retake the posts. But before he could ac- 
complish his purpose Col. Clark's reserve 



146 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 

arrived at Kaskaskia from the boats; when, 
leaving a sufficient number to hold the forts he 
had captured he marched without delay against 
Ft. St. Vincennes. 

This was an arduous march of many days 
through the swamps and quagmires of the Wa- 
bash : the men often wading to their armpits in 
the ice cold water; yet they did not hesitate to 
follow their heroic leader. They were five days 
marching the last nine miles. This was in 
February 1779, and they must have perished had 
not the weather been mild for the season. 

On the 23rd of February, Col. Clark led his 
men from the swamps and stood upon the solid 
ground in front of the fort at Vincennes. The 
place was taken completely by surprise, and 
after a siege of eighteen hours the fort was car- 
ried by storm. 

Governor Hamilton and his whole garrison, 
numbering more men than Clark had in his com- 
mand, became prisoners of war. Hamilton, who 
had incited the savages to deeds of atrocity by 
paying rewards for human scalps, was sent to 
Virginia w^here he was treated as a felon and 
imprisoned in chains, but was finally exchanged. 

Thus within a few months. Col. Clark had 
gained possession of all the British posts north- 
west of the Ohio, and had moved the boundary 
line of Virginia from that river to the Missis- 
sippi. 



AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 147 

This expedition has been compared in diffi- 
culty and suffering, and in daring courage, to 
that of the memorable march of Arnold to Que- 
bec in December 1775 ; but it was far more 
important in its results. 

Unfortunately, the state of Virginia when it 
commissioned Col. Clark to raise a regiment 
for the protection of the western frontier, did 
not provide means for its support, but author- 
ized him to procure supplies as he could, either 
on his own credit or on that of the state. Act- 
ing upon this authority he at first gave drafts 
upon the state of Virginia for supplies for his 
army ; at the same time he pledged his personal 
security for their payment. 

On the«2nd of January 1781 the Assembly of 
Virginia ceded to the United States the terri- 
tory northwest of the Ohio river which they had 
established in 1778 as the "County of Illinois," 
at the request of Col. Clark for the appointment 
of a civil government for the territory he had 
conquered. 

After this time the state of Virginia claimed 
that all expenses incurred by Col. Clark in cap- 
turing the Illinois country, and in holding 
possession of it, should be assumed by the Gov- 
ernment of the United States. 

The general Government did not acknowledge 
this claim, and Col. Clark was thrown on his 
own resources; either to abandon his conquest, 



148 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 

or to hold it. He was an officer equal to the 
occasion. As his difficulties increased his reso- 
lution gained strength, and when the appeals of 
the state and government had failed, he resolved 
to hold his conquests by the strong hand of 
power. 

He took by force such scanty supplies as he 
could do with, for the support of his army, from 
the sparse population of the country. He gave 
them in return certified accounts, to be paid by 
the state of Viriginia or by himself ; and as his 
personal credit at this time was better than 
that of the state, of course he was the one 
looked to for payment. 

Thus General Clark continued to hold posses- 
sion of this valuable territory until the close of 
the Revolution, otherwise the strong grasp of 
England would have been upon it ; and it is safe 
to say that she would have held yet all the ter- 
ritory included in the States of Ohio, Indiana, 
Illinois, Michigan and Wisconsin. 

The proof of this assertion is attested by the 
diplomatic correspondence of the Treaty of Pa- 
ris, signed Sept. :-^rd, 1783. Here it is expressly 
stated that the tenable ground of making the 
boundary line at the Lakes instead of at the 
Ohio river, as the British commissioners claimed, 
was the fact that General Clark had conquered 
the country and was at that very time in actual 
military possession of it. 



AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 149 

Thus we see that consequences of great im- 
port hinged upon the acts of this officer ; yet in 
the American Cyclopaedia there is not one line 
of his biography ; although brief mention is 
made of his brother, William Clark, who was 
one of the principals in the "Expedition of 
Lewis & Clark," the first to cross the Rocky 
Mountains in the year 1804. 

The expenses of General Clark's expedition 
were never paid by his state and not by the 
government until long after his death. He on 
his part, honorably sacrificed his own property, 
as far as it would go, to pay these claims. But 
after he had exhausted a fine estate in this way, 
he was still harassed by law suits and by the 
importunities of poor friends, who had aided his 
expedition. 

Under these circumstances he unfortunately 
gave way to intemperance; and drank of strong 
drink as if it contained some oblivious antidote 
that could dispel sorrow. He died near Louis- 
ville, Kentucky, February 18, 1818. 

The state of Virginia sent General Clark a 
sword after he had become old and poor ; but he 
broke it into pieces, exclaiming: 

"When Virginia needed a sword, I gave her 
one. She now sends me a toy. I want bread !'* 

Judge Burnet, of Cincinnati, in his ''Notes on 
the Northwest Territory," in speaking of Gen- 
eral Clark, said: "He had the appearance of a 



150 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 

man born to command, and fitted by nature for 
his destiny. His majestic person, strong features 
and dignified deportment gave evidence of an 
intelligent, resolute mind." 

This is the onl}^ allusion to his personal 
appearance that we have seen. He probabl}'' 
never visited the site where Clarksburg, his first 
namesake, stands ; but he was known, person- 
ally, to some at least, of the settlers who built 
their cabins here, more than a century ago. These 
honest, simple minded pioneers no doubt thought 
when they gave his name to their rude hamlet, 
they would thus perpetuate his fame while that 
name should abide. Yet there are few now w^ho 
know the origin of the name except those who 
read the records of the past ; for to those who 
do not read, there is no past beyond the memo- 
ries of their youth. 

At the time General Clark was raising troops 
for his Illinois Campaign, a company was re- 
cruited at Clarksburg by Colonel George Jackson. 

This company with the thrift of the times 
hewed out their canoes from the forest trees, 
and into them they loaded their munitions of 
war ; consisting mostly of their flint-lock rifles, 
bullet-pouches, jerked-venison, dried-beef, and 
likely, a rundlet or two of corn-whisky. 

These men were no holiday soldiers ; of lux- 
ury they knew not the name; many of them had 
heard the whiz of the Indian bullet, and had 



AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 151 

stood with rifle in hand in defense of their 
cabins when the horrid war-whoop liad broken on 
the stillness of the night in the gloom of the 
forest. 

When all was ready the canoes were loosened, 
and the little fleet floated on the limpid waters 
beneath the shade of the great trees. It followed 
the meanders of the river for many days until 
Redstone Old Fort, Fort Pitt, and Fort Henry 
were passed, and finally their boats were moored 
in the mouth of the Great Kanawha. 

At this point for some reason that the records 
do not explain, the expedition was abandoned, 
and the volunteers from this section returned to 
their homes. 

An anecdote is told of General Clark which 
will further illustrate his character. At the 
treaty of Fort Washington, where Cincinnati 
now stands, Clark had only seventy men, while 
the Shawnees appeared at the Council with 
three hundred warriors. 

In the council-room of the log fort, Clark sat 
at a table, with two or three of his officers. The 
chief of the Shawnees rose, and after making a 
boisterous speech placed on the table a belt of 
white wampum ; and also, to the dismay of the 
whites, a belt of black wampum ; this latter indi- 
cated that he was as ready for war as for peace. 
At the same time the three hundred warriors 
applauded their chief by a terrific yell. 



152 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 

General Clark pushed the black wampum off 
the table, then rising as the savages muttered 
their indignation, he stamped the belt under his 
feet, and with a look of stern defiance and a 
voice of thunder he ordered them to leave the 
hall. They involuntarily left, and the next day 
sued for peace. 

But the quality which distinguished Gen. 
Clark above all men of his time, save one, was 
that statesman-like prescience with which he ar- 
rived at a just estimate of the future inestimable 
value of the northwest territory; as late as the 
first regular Congress under the Constitution, 
there were senators who thought that the 
"western wilderness," as they called it, would 
never be settled; and they stated that it was not 
worth the cost of its protection by the go verment ! 

Washington and Clark, to judge from their 
acts and words, were the only public men of 
that day who had any just conception of the 
value of this territory. 

And now, while it is in order to commemorate 
the deeds of Revolutionary heroes, and societies 
are organized for that purpose , it is but chari- 
table to predict that the beautiful city of Louis- 
ville on the banks of the "Belle Riviere," as the 
French named the Ohio, will in time erect a 
monument to George Rogers Clark, her founder 
and defender in the days when the world was 
young on these western shores. 



EVANGELINE. 

(In the Acadian Land, the Scene of Longfellow's Poem.) 

A few years since, while traveling with a 
companion through the maritime provinces of 
Lower Canada, we were turned aside from our 
route — drawn by an eager desire to visit a spot 
made classic by the genius of one of our own 
poets. 

It seems wonderful that the creative imagina- 
tion and the glowing fancy of the poet can 
cast a spell of enchantment over a material 
landscape and through mere power of words to 
endow it with a glamour that does not fade with 
the lapse of years, but still illumine the deeds 
narrated and the scene long after the actors on 
that scene and the poet who wrote of them have 
passed from earth. 

Little did the English officer, Col. Winslow, 
thiak when he delivered to the Acadian peasants 
the cruel proclamation of his king — and which 
task he declared — "was painful to his natural 
make and temper," — that the events of that day 
would be perpetuated in the lines of a beautiful 
poem. 

Some such thoughts we had as we left the 
153 



154 EVANGELINE. 

train at the lonely station of Grand Pre, in Nova 
Scotia. 

We stood then "In the Acadian Land, on the 
shores of the Basin of Minas." Yet, without 
the story of Evangeline and the poem, the 
scene presented here might not have lived in 
our memory ; but now every spot was glowing 
with the poet's touch. 

"Stretchirg to the eastward," and all around 
were "the vast meadows that had given the 
name to the village." 

Back from the marsh-lands, or "salt-meadows," 
there was presented to our view a wide cham- 
paign country, not unlike the rolling prairies of 
the west. Directly in front of the station is 
the site of the church where the Acadian peas- 
ants were confined. There remain to mark the 
spot a row of ancient willow trees and a small 
well, which latter was unearthed by the plow 
only a few years since. This "well on the slope 
of the hill, "was accepted of course as the veritable 
one that had contained "the moss grown bucket 
fastened with iron, near which was a trough for 
horses." 

However, a regard for the truth compels us 
to add that the well in question is not "on the 
slope of the hill," but in the flat land near the 
willows which mark the site of the church. 

The Acadian peasants who settled here were 
mostly emigrants from the west coast of France 



EVANGELINE. 155 

and had been accustomed in their own country 
to reclaim the marsh lands by building dikes to 
shut out the tides. This system they pursued 
here as their fathers at home in La Vandee, in 
the olden time, had done before them. 

It is well known that the tides rise higher 
in the Bay of Minas, at the head of the Bay of 
Fundy, than elsewhere on earth. At the full 
of the moon, about the time of the equinoxes, 
the spring tides rush up these narrow inlets 
— a wall of water sixty feet high ; — advancing 
with a roar, the mighty waves overspread the 
lowlands and crash against the dikes. 

The poet refers to these immense dikes, "which 
were raised by the hands of the Acadian farm- 
ers with labors incessant." 

We lingered long by the site of the church 
and plucked a few wild flowers by the side of 
the well, to carry with us as mementoes of our 
visit. 

Then we turned to the north, where the prom- 
ontory of Blomidon, four hundred feet high, 
stands at the entrance to the Basin of Minas. 

Between this headland and the site of the old 
church lay the village of Grand Pre at the mouth 
of the Gaspereau river. It is more appropriate, 
perhaps, to term it a hamlet, as the place con- 
sists of about twenty houses scattered over the 
farm-lands with not more than three or four 
clustered together at the cross-roads. 



156 EVANGELINE. 

All the old French houses, with their "thatched 
roofs, dormer windows and projecting gables," 
have long disappeared, and only the dikes, the 
willows and one apple tree remain, the work of 
Acadian hands. We walked along the road from 
the site of the old church to the mouth of 
the Gaspereau river, a mile distant. It was 
along this road, on the 10th of September, 
1755, that four hundred and eighteen Acadian 
peasants, men and boys, were marched to the 
British ships that lay in the mouth of the river. 
They were followed to the beach by their wives 
and daughters bewailing their sad fate, where, as 
so touchingly recounted in the poem, all were 
forced into the ships and sent into exile, never 
to return. 

My companion and myself stood for a time on 
the rude pier at the mouth of the Gaspereau, and 
looked down on the vessels — several schooners 
and a bark — that rode at anchor in the bay. Our 
conversation was of that time, one hundred and 
thirty-six years before, when from this pier, the 
Acadians had been crowded into the ships that 
then lay in this harbor. My companion said : 
"No doubt Evangeline had walked out on this 
pier, while gazing with wistful eyes for a glimpse 
of Gabriel." Then we spoke of the relentless 
cruelty practiced in the parting of families and 
the separation of parent from child, husband 
from wife, brother from sister, and alas ! Evan- 
el i ne from Gabriel. 



EVANGELINE. 157 

But as the character of Evangeline is only a 
fair vision of the poet's brain, typical of some 
French peasant girl who dwelt here then — it is 
probable that but for this crucial wrong there 
would have been no grounds for the pathetic 
story, and the poet's imagery would not have cast 
its spell upon these fields. 

The noon-hour arrived, we left the spot where 
the Acadians had embarked on their long exile, 
and walked up the hill to a cottage where we 
were informed we could procure accommoda- 
tions. On the way we actually met the "wains" 
coming from the meadows, as described by the 
poet, 'laden with the briny hay that filled the 
air with its odor." 

This cottage was the home of a retired sea 
captain, a stalwart man seventy-five years of 
age. In the afternoon the old captain drove us 
all over the neighborhood, and finally back to 
the railroad station at Wolfville, where is situa- 
ted the Acadia college. He knew all the points 
referred to in the poem of Evangeline, but it was 
his belief that the Acadians had received noth- 
ing more than their just deserts. 

He was a native of this place, and we ques- 
tioned him in regard to his life here, but as he 
had been at sea from early youth, only visiting 
his home at long intervals, he could tell us but 
little that had transpired in the meanwhile. He 
knew the place had changed greatly since his 



158 EVANGELINE. 

childhood, and he had been told that ten or a 
dozen years before there had been a large num- 
ber of visitors coming every summer to Grand 
Pre, but for some cause unknown to him they 
had been dropping off, until now there were very 
few. 

While the captain was talking, we noticed his 
dialect was entirely different from that of the 
people among whom we had been travelling — 
the French of the lower St. Lawrence, and the 
English and Scotch of New Brunswick and 
Prince Edward's Island. 

This circumstance we mentioned to him, and 
told him he talked very much like our Virginia 
people. He replied that we were all of the same 
stock ; that he and nearly all the people about 
here w^ere descendants of the Tories who were 
driven out of the United States at the close of 
the Revolution, about the year 1783. They were 
all exiles as well as the Aeadians, and had re- 
ceived about as hard measure, but he had never 
been told that any one had written poetry about 
them ! He had never known any French 
people on this shore, they had all gone long be- 
fore his time. He had been in command of 
vessels, he said, for about thirty years, and 
twice in his life he had navigated to the east- 
ward and returned by the west, having sailed 
his ship entirely around the globe. 

At the captain's house we met a young man, 



EVANGELINE. 159 

a native of the Bermuda Islands, who had been 
visiting here for several weeks. He was much 
interested in this place, because as he stated, 
"it was the scene of the events described in 
Evangeline," which he had read in his island 
home. However, it was not for that he h?d 
come here, but in search of health. He had 
been advised that the atmosphere of this coast 
"would be of benefit to him, although in his 
islands they had spring all the time, and the 
fields and trees were always green. There are 
as many islands in the Bermudas as days in the 
year, but only about five of them are large 
enough to turn around on. 

As we stood on an eminence commanding a 
wide prospect, he gazed with delighted eye across 
the grand meadows to the lofty range of the 
Cobequid Hills and remarked : "The world seems 
very large to me here in Nova Scotia, as this is 
the only part of the mainland I have ever been 
on. I am a farmer, when at home, but perhaps 
you would not call me a farmer but a gardener, 
as I have seen gardens here in Nova Seotia 
much larger than my farm in Bermuda. O yes, 
I have heard of Grand Pre many times when at 
home, and I regret that Mr. Longfellow could 
not have lived to write more good poetry." 

He spoke in a lisping drawl, clipping his 
words after a manner peculiar to these islanders ; 
yet he was withal of very pleasing address. He 



160 EVANGELINE. 

very kindly accompanied us in our drives the 
whole afternoon, in order to assist the captain 
in pointing out the places of interest. 

This is a charming vallej^, cultivated through- 
out its whole extent like a garden. Travelers 
say that only the valley of Wyoming in our 
country can match the valley of the Grand Pre 
in tradition and beauty ; one has its Gertrude, 
the other its Evangeline. 

We learned of a peculiar custom the farmers 
on this coast have of harvesting the "sedge" 
grass that grows on the marsh lands outside the 
embankments. They float their boats over the 
meadows, and at the ebb rest them on the grass. 
Without delay they now begin to cut the grass 
and fill their boats as rapidly as possible ; then 
on the flood-tide they float with their cargoes of 
sedge-grass to the docks far inland. When they 
have no boats, they often employ means more 
hazardous. Then they go on the marshes as 
soon as the tide has ebbed, and cut as large bun- 
dles of grass as possible. At the turn of the tide 
they secure the grass with long ropes, to which 
is tied, at intervals, wisps of straw, in order to 
float it; as the tide comes up they move inshore, 
pulling their bundles after them. Sometimes ad- 
verse winds cause them to move slowly, and the 
tide gains on them at such rate that they are 
compelled to abandon their crops, and seek 
safety by fleeing to the shore. 



EVANGELINE. 161 

These dike lands are, perhaps, as durable and 
productive as any in the world. For more than 
one hundred and fifty years the best of them have 
produced, without intermission, from two to 
three tons of timothy hay per acre, annually. 
These fertile spots w^ell deserve the name of "the 
fat of the land," by which they are known to 
the natives. 

It is sad to reflect that of the race that built 
these immense dikes and reclaimed this land 
from the hungry maw of the sea, there are now 
none here to enjoy its fruits. "Blown by a 
blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert," 
they were scattered, and the soft accents of the 
French tongue are heard in Acadia no more. 

While walking along this shore one thinks of 
the personages of the poem, who were identified 
with these scenes ; of Belief ontaine and the gen- 
tle Evangeline ; of sturdy Basil La Jeunesse and 
Gabriel ; of LeBlanc and Father Felician ; and 
there arises in memory the pitiful appeal of 
Evangeline when, with hope deferred, she had 
reached the home of her lover in far Louisiana — 
"Gone? is Gabriel gone?" 

In the course of nature the Acadians would 
have passed away, but without persecution they 
would have left descendants behind them ; now 
there are none of the Norman name on the coast. 

Among the hardy guides and voyagers whom 
Fremont collected for his first Rocky Mountain 



162 EVANGELINE. 

expedition, there was one, by name, Basil La 
Jeunesse. This man, the favorite of his leader, 
assumed as his role always the foremost place in 
every danger, and finally lost his life in a peri- 
lous venture. Perhaps this circumstance may 
have suggested to the poet the name of the 
blacksmith of Grand Pre. 

Mr. Longfellow never visited the scene of his 
poem. It is said he feared his high ideal might 
receive a shock from the reality ; yet could he 
have stood with us there on that July day in the 
midst of the harvest, he would have perceived 
with the poet's eye, the landscape in all accord 
with his own imagery: "Peace seemed to reign 
on earth and the restless heart of the ocean. And 
pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air, the 
Basin of Minas, as the sunset threw the long 
shadows of the trees o'er the broad ambrosial 
meads." 

In all her journeyings in search of Gabriel, the 
poet has followed the Acadian maiden through 
many a sunny land — along the shores of the 
"Beautiful River" — over the bright prairies, 
"where bloom roses and purple amorphas" — 
across the lakes of Plaquemine, and southern 
Atchafalaya, where, "resplendent in beauty, 
the lotus lifts her golden crown" — yet in all her 
wanderings, Evangeline's sad gaze rested on no 
scene more beautiful than this view at Grand 
Pre — the home of her youth. 



EVANGELINE. 163 

Dr. Johnson has said: "A man's patriotism 
should gain force upon the plain of Marathon;" 
likewise, the traveler in Acadia should gain in 
appreciation of the poem of Evangeline, on 
viewing the scene of the most beautiful and 
pathetic story in American literature. 



FICTION. 

PART III. 



PART III. 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

Mount Pinnickinnick looks loftily down, 
On the valley, and on the town ; 
Where 'mid scenes of calm repose, 
Dwells the charming,demm*e Rose! 

The sun is just gilding the tops of the tall 
hills, and the dew is on leaf and lawn, as a 
girl crosses the portico of a mansion on the hill- 
side, and trips down the steps to the walk that 
winds among the trees to the park gate. 

The surroundings of this residence are indic- 
ative of wealth and taj?te, yet the elegant figure 
of the girl seems to enhance the air of refinement 
of the place. She passes through the gate, and 
follows the road round the hill till opposite a 
neat cottage where she turns aside and bows her 
head beneath the low trellis of morning glories 
and honeysuckles that cover the doorway. 

Seated within the little room of the cottage is 
an elderly lady whose refined, pale face lights 
up at the sight of the girl approaching through 
the bower of flowers. As she enters and places 
a covered dish on the table, the old lady ex- 
167 



168 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

claims: "Why Rose, you look as pretty as the 
morning!" 

At this the young girl stands erect ; the color 
mounts in her pink cheeks and for an instant the 
silken lashes droop over her hazel eyes; then 
with a little laugh that falls pleasantly on the 
ear, she runs to the old lady — pats her on either 
cheek, and kisses her — after which the unex- 
pected happens, for then she throws herself on a 
seat and weeps silently. 

Man may explain, at times, curious phenomena 
of nature ; but the varying moods of young 
women are to him inexplicable ; and that this 
charming young person should pass suddenly 
from the sunshine of laughter to the storm of 
grief, seems alarming. 

Yet the elderly lady was not much disturbed 
by it, but soothed the girl gently, and when a 
smile shone on her fair face, said : "I am sur- 
prised at you. Rose Trevillian ! Here you are, 
crying because you have two beaux, and there's 
many a girl hereabouts cries because she has 
none at all!" 

'*0 Aunt Annette," cried the girl, "no young 
lady ever had two such beaux, in the world, 
before. There's Lawyer Fuljames, old enough to 
be my father, and vain enough to be a peacock ! 
And there's poor Tom Hilton, wild enough and 
nonsensical enough to be in a nursery ; though 
he's not a day less than twenty-three ! Whatever 
I'm to do with them, I don't know." . 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 169 

And then Rose began to laugh in her very 
attractive way, and the old lady laughed too. 

Now, while Rose and Aunt Annette are ex- 
changing confidences, we shall take occasion to 
recount somewhat of her life's history. 

She is an orphan ; her father had died about 
ten years before the opening of this veracious nar- 
rative, w^hen she was about eleven years of age. 
When Rose was an infant of four years she had 
lost her mother, and the little girl wondered 
often whether the dim memory of her mother's 
sad face that came to her on lonely nights was a 
reality, or the vision of a dream. 

After the death of her father she had been 
adopted by her uncle, Colonel Effingham, whose 
handsome residence we have seen her leave on 
this beautiful spring morning. In Colonel 
Effingham she had ever found a father and a 
protector. He was a widower and childless. 

Mrs. Annette Savoy, whom Rose called 
"Aunt," had been his housekeeper during the 
tender years of her infancy ; but now, for nearly 
tw^o years past. Rose herself had been the mis- 
tress of his palatial residence. 

Rose Trevillian had received every advantage 
that wealth and culture could command. After 
having graduated at Vassar College she was sent 
abroad with "Aunt Annette" as chaperon, and 
then for a year she had studied in the museums 
of Paris, and later, attended the School of De- 



170 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

sign for young ladies under the direction of the 
famous Rosa Bonheur. Thence, going to Berlin, 
she passed another year devoted to science under 
the private instruction of professors of the re- 
nowned University in the Linden. 

At the end of this time, she found herself well 
versed in three languages. Her mind had been 
broadened by observation and travel; her active 
intellect, stimulated by her intercourse with 
brilliant people of two continents. 

Yet, when Rose returned to her native land, 
she found things sadly changed at home ; her 
uncle's usually cheerful countenance now bore a 
careworn expression ; he seemed ill at ease, until 
he had informed his niece of the changed condi- 
tion of his affairs, w^hich would necessitate a 
great change in their manner of life. 

*'I have become very much embarrassed finan- 
cially, my child," he said, "and we may expect, 
sooner or later, to be sold out of house and 
home." However, they had continued to struggle 
along for nearly two years since the return of 
Rose, living in their beautiful home, pretty much 
after the old style. It is true that Rose had 
taught a class in fine arts during this period, and 
thus contributed her moiety to the house- 
hold expenses. 

In fact the old colonel's embarrassment was 
perhaps more in anticipation than in reality. 
Meanwhile, Miss Rose had w^ritten a novel which 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 171 

had been published only eighteen months, and 
had begun already to yield considerable revenue. 

The success of Rose's adventure in literature 
was a surprise to her friends, not because they 
thought her incapable of writing a novel, but 
because she persisted in choosing for her subject 
one so incongruous with the life and thoughts 
of a young lady ; one, they said, she could not 
possibly know much about. For, despite their 
objections, it had pleased her to write a tale of 
the sea, entitled: "The Captain of the Bellero- 
phon; A Tale of Nantucket." 

Now to find out what a young lady could 
possibly know about seafaring, even one as 
gifted as Rose, was the curiosity that had 
prompted many young men and a few mariners 
to read the novel written by "Rose Trevillian." 

For she persisted also in writing under her 
own proper name ; but this w^as not an objection 
offered by the gentlemen of her acquaintance ; 
for they declared that no nom-de-j^lume she 
could have assumed w^ould have sounded so well 
to them. 

Those w^ho read her book were warm in their 
praises of it and one or two professional critics 
wrote of it, in such terms that her friends said : 
"Rose is about to wake up some morning and 
find herself famous." One critic wrote: "She 
has written a graphic story of the sea ; her 
knowledge of nautical terms is surprising, and 



172 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

her sea-tale is natural, lifelike and of absorbing 
interest. We predict it will be read by mariners 
wherever the English language is known." 

The subject of Rose Trevillian's novel had 
been suggested to her mind by a tragic incident 
that had occurred on her voyage to Europe, 
which may be briefly stated. 

As her steamer crossed the Grand Banks the 
"look out" had sighted the wreck of what proved 
to be a Nantucket fishing smack which had been 
crushed by contact with an iceberg. From a 
bit of this wreck Rose had seen the sailors snatch 
the dank, limp form of the captain of the ill- 
fated craft, the only survivor of a crew of thir- 
teen. She was standing near the rail of her 
ship when his almost lifeless body was lifted on 
board; and her woman's heart was touched with 
pity as she noted that his bronzed face, though 
tinged with the pallor of death, still wore an ex- 
pression of resolution and that his hand still 
grasped the trumpet, while those who had an- 
swered its call were beneath the waves. 

After a time the surgeons succeeded in bring- 
ing this man back to life and a week ^ater, when he 
was serving in the capacity of a boatswain on 
her ship. Rose had noticed him, as he was stand- 
ing forward directing the sailors aloft, through 
the same battered trumpet he had brought from 
the wreck, she felt drawn to speak to him. So 
after his task was finished she called him aside 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 173 

to the cabin door and "questioned him the story 
of his life." 

He replied in frank and sailor-like phrase 
that added a picturesque effect to his narrative 
of perils and sufferings on the sea. 

This incident made such an impression on her 
youthful mind that it did not fade from her mem- 
ory, and when two years later she began her 
novel it must needs be a story of the sea, and 
the Nantucket captain must of course be the 
chief hero of her narrative. 

This is the explanation that Rose gave to her 
friends in regard to the origin of her story that 
is now so much read by "those that go down to 
the sea in ships, that do business in great 
waters." 

Now that Rose has just ended her conversa- 
tion with "Aunt Annette" and is leaving the 
cottage, we shall go with her. 

It is a remarkable coincidence that as soon as 
she reaches the pavement a young man should 
drive up to the sidewalk with his buggy. He 
pretends to be much surprised to meet her; how- 
ever, he jumps out, dolfs his hat, and begs the 
honor of driving her home. 

Rose consents with a pretty air and Mr. Tom 
Hilton, for 'tis he, assists her to a seat in his 
vehicle which, by the way, is rather a ramshackle 
affair, although the horse is a good one. 

Tom Hilton is a tall man of florid complexion 



174 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

with a sandy moustache and a smiling, pleasant 
countenance. He is the son of a wealthy farmer 
living in the suburbs of the town. 

' 'The shortest way home is the longest way 
around," remarked Tom as they started. Now, 
although he misquoted the proverb and perhaps 
did not care for its significance, yet he inter- 
preted it very handsomely, that is to suit him- 
self, and made considerable of a detour from the 
direct route. 

But as they turned toward home and after Tom 
had talked himself to a standstill on matters 
personal, he thought it best to change the sub- 
ject and try to be really entertaining. So he 
said: "Miss Rose, the thermometer had a late 
fall this spring!" At this his companion broke 
down completely and began to laugh. 

Thereupon, he began to jest with her about 
her novel, and he wanted to know, "whether the 
captain's gig was drawn by a sea horse!" Con- 
tinuing, he stated very gravely that "her sea- 
story was so natural the publishers said they 
could see its sails !" 

They were nearly opposite the court house by 
this time and Tom was about to "get off" some- 
thing else, when there was a crackling noise 
heard somewhere about the old buggy. Tom 
pulled up his horse and Rose hopped lightly out ; 
but as he was about to follow one of the hind 
wheels crashed down and he rolled over back- 
wards and fell out ! 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 175 

Tom scrambled to his feet and was clawing 
the mud from his coat when he observed his 
rival, Lawyer Fuljames, advancing, hat in hand, 
and bowing most obsequiously to Miss Rose. 
Mr. Fuljames proposed very politely to relieve 
Mr. Hilton of his present embarrassment by 
escorting Miss Trevillian home. 

It was the only thing to be done, as Hilton 
could not leave the horse, so he had to be con- 
tent vsrith the sweet words of sympathy that fell 
from Rose's lips in regard to the accident, and 
then to see her depart, walking up the hill with 
the man of all others he feared most as a rival. 
It seemed to him that Fuljames had some secret 
hold or unknown influence over Col. Effingham, 
the uncle of Rose, and through him he appeared 
to exercise some influence over her out of all 
proportion to his deserts when one considers the 
age of the lawyer and his personal appearance. 

"What was there about this man to attract any 
young lady?" that was the question Hilton had 
asked himself on many occasions and could not 
answer. 

Lawyer Augustus Fuljames was about fifty 
years or age, of medium stature and rotund fig- 
ure, with small twinkling eyes; his sandy 
goatee was died black in spots ; his dress was of 
the shabby genteel style and there was that 
about the man to excite in a stranger a feeling 
of distrust. In fact there was a general air of 



176 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

insincerity and a want of conviction in what he 
said, as if he were always shifting and tacking 
to avoid controversy or the giving of offense. 
He was a lawyer of great shrewdness, and many 
said, unscrupulous and heartless in his dealings ; 
and as a sequence was successful and had ac- 
quired a large fortune. 

As the lawyer and Miss Rose walked up the 
hill together he began to harp on the subject 
that had of late distressed her much ; but now 
that he was much more importunate and much 
bolder than ever, she was driven to answer him 
with firmness, that he need never approach her 
on the subject of matrimony as it was an endea- 
vor hopeless on his part and one that always 
gave her pain. 

Fuljames then, flushed with anger and disap- 
pointment, spoke to her insolentlj^ and as a 
craven. 

"I have been very patient with your foster 
father, Col. Effingham," he said. '^But now I 
shall push matters as becomes a man of business. 
I don't think it is at all necessary for you to put 
on so many airs with me, when I own the very 
house over your head, and your foster-father 
has remained there only through my charity and 
at my expense !" 

By this time they were near the entrance to 
Col. Effingham's fine grounds, and at this un- 
manly siDeech of Fuljames, Rose turned on him 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 177 

with flashing eyes: "Go," she exclaimed "and 
never speak to me again, sir!" 

The man slunk from her presence with a 
dejected air but went away shaking his head 
and mumbling threats. 

II. 

Rose Trevillian's indignation aroused by the 
insolent language of Lawyer Fuljames caused her 
to walk with a very stately step through the 
winding way of the park, while she resolved in 
her mind what part of this conversation should 
be divulged to her uncle. 

She knew his impetuous temper and feared 
the consequences that might ensue; yet she con- 
sidered it a duty to inform him of the lawyer's 
threats so that if he could provide any stay for 
the threatened legal process he would have time 
to act. 

As Rose approached the house, Col. Effing- 
ham, a tall white-haired man of very im- 
posing presence, was walking back and forth on 
the portico. He noticed au once the agitation 
of his niece, and as she walked by his side and 
recounted to him her conversation with the law- 
yer, the old colonel began to bring his cane down 
with great force, and then to saw the air with it 
as if he held a saber in his hand and was mak- 
ing "cuts and thrusts." 

His language was very emphatic and decisive 



178 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

in regard to the character and conduct of Ful- 
james, and it took all of Rose's persuasive pow- 
ers to make him promise that he would not 
"wear his cane out on that 'pettifogger,' on 
sight!" 

He admitted, finally, that "it would be dis- 
graceful for a man like himself who had led sol- 
diers in battle to have a personal encounter with 
an ignoble foeman like Fuljames." 

Col. Effingham was a gray-haired man, even 
in time of the war with Mexico, now ten years 
past ; for one of his officers then wrote home : 
"Our 'Plume of Navarre' is our colonel's white 
head, for it shines through the smoke, and we 
have to spur very hard to keep up with the 'old 
man,' so he won't do all the charging by him- 
self!" 

Hence, it is easy to be seen, the colonel is now 
too old a man to begin life anew should his prop- 
erty be taken from him, which seemed probable. 
He had been induced to go on the notes of a 
brother officer. Colonel Dalton, who owned large 
possessions in the shape of valuable pine forests 
in North Carolina. 

Colonel Dalton died the year after the Mexi- 
can War, and Effingham claimed that the prin- 
cipal note had been paid, as his friend had 
written to him to that efPect; but through some 
mischance this note had not been canceled, but 
had fallen into the hands of Lawyer Fuljames 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 179 

for collection. Now, as it happened, Effingham 
was the only responsible endorser left, and the 
note with the interest added amounted to a great 
sum, more than his estate would pay. Such was 
the present condition of his affairs. 

Colonel Dalton had left a son, Edward, who 
had been a captain of cavalry under Effingham, 
and was a great favorite with him. In fact, it 
was largely due to his great affection for this 
gallant Captain Edward Dalton, that had chiefly 
influenced Colonel Effingham to assist his father, 
to the extent of greatly embarrassing himself. 

The year his father had died, Edward Dalton 
had gone to sea as the captain of a merchant 
ship, and had now been absent from the country 
for ten years. Colonel Effingham had tried in 
vain to communicate with him. 

He believed that Edward Dalton knew this 
debt had been paid before he left the country, 
otherwise, he would not have departed, and left 
his old colonel in the lurch to pay a debt of 
which he had not received one dollar. 

"My only hope," said the colonel, "is to delay 
legal process in this business until Edward Dal- 
ton shall return to settle with the administra- 
tor's of his father's estate. This is the hope 
that has long sustained me, but now, that Ful- 
james is smarting under his rebuff — 1 fear he 
will push matters to extremity." 

The gentle Rose was very sorrowful as she 



180 ROSE TEEVILLIAN. 

looked in her uncle's careworn face and felt as 
though she were to blame for increasing the 
anxieties that were weighing hina down. 

Before she left him and passed into the house, 
she said: "O Uncle, I am so sorry, so very 
sorry; yet what could I do?" 

Rose had uttered these modest words in low, 
sweet tones ; for she possessed that characteris- 
tic token of refinement — "a voice ever soft, 
gentle and low." 

Yet the old soldier would not let her make an 
apology in extenuation of her rebuff of Fuljames, 
but said, as he laid his hand on her head: 

"My child, you did exactly right; you must 
never think of this man any more. The gyrfal- 
con does not mate with the carrion crow ! I knew 
your father well, and rode by his side in battle ; 
he was a brave and honorable man; and were he 
alive to-day, he would have it so." The old 
man kissed her and she tried to smile, but tears 
were in her eyes as she passed on into the house 
with a sad heart. 

Coincident with these occurrences the spring 
term of the "Federal Court" was holding in the 
town, and there were many visiting lawyers and 
strangers in attendance. In honor of these vis- 
itors the citizens were to give a large ball that 
night at the "Old Stone Tavern." But more 
esi^ecially did the towns-people wish to honor 
the able and dignified court — a judge profoundly 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 181 

versed in legal knowledge and yet endowed with 
such courtly and affable manners as rendered 
him everywhere a great favorite in society. 

Soon after the shades of night had fallen the 
old tavern was ablaze with candle light, and here 
the eager and expectant elite of the town were 
assembled. 

To Lawyer Fuljames had been assigned the 
pleasing task of escorting Miss Rose Trevillian 
to the ball. But after the contretemps of the 
morning, of course, this could not be. 

The ceremonies were about to begin ; the 
strains of music were heard; and the jocund 
laugh, and all the merriment that precedes the 
giddy whirl of the dance, were on; when on 
looking around for their partners, the young 
men noticed that one of the fairest of the fair 
was missing! 

Tom Hilton exclaimed with a tragic air: 
"The sun has gone down at noon-day! I no 
longer take any interest in life!" 

But when young Cameron, one of the exquis- 
ites of the town, sidled up to him and whispered: 
"Tom there's old Fuljames over there, fuller 
than a biled owl! Miss Rose wouldn't come with 
him in that condition — of course not!" 

Then Hilton, despite his words, began to take 
considerable "interest in life;" for he gazed at 
Fuljames for a moment, and there was a danger- 
ous glint in his eyes as he noted the disrepu- 



182 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

table plight of the lawyer. But he said nothing 
about it, but merely remarked to young Cameron, 
as he turned aside: "I depart immediately, 
in quest of the queen of the ball," and left 
the house. 

Tom Hilton arrived at the residence of Col. 
Effingham soon after Miss Rose, arrayed in a 
Worth costume, had taken her seat in the parlor 
to await her uncle, w^ho, she supposed, would 
escort her to the grand ball which had been 
looked forward to as the event of the season. 

Tom was ushered into the parlor without 
being aware of her presence, and his eyes falling 
on her, as she sat silent and motionless, she ap- 
peared to him a vision of loveliness beyond 
compare. 

Indeed his surprise, shown by his silence and 
awkward attitude, appeared so ludicrous that 
Miss Rose exclaimed, laughing: 

"Why, Tom, you didn't take me for a ghost, 
did you?" 

"For a ghost," drawled Tom. "I took you 
for an angel, fresh from the shores of the blest!" 

It was now Miss Rose's tarn to be abashed at 
this warmth of expression w^hich bore the unmis- 
takable ring of true feeling, and she hung her 
head and colored very prettily, as she said : 

"O Tom, you are too ridiculous for anything!" 

Nov/ this was rather a w^eak remark to fall 
from the lips of the dignified and learned Miss 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 183 

Rose Trevillian, and really showed how much 
she was embarrassed by the unbridled admira- 
tion of her suitor. 

III. 

Tom Hilton had not much time to reflect upon 
the criticism made by Miss Rose Trevillian, that 
his remark was — "too ridiculous for anything." 

For Col. Effingham appeared at the parlor 
door soon thereafter and directed them to go on 
without awaiting him. "Tell the judge," he 
said, "I'll be along pretty soon and give him 
such a rubber at whist as will remind him of old 
days. Nothing will please the old man more 
than that," he concluded; "for he dearly loves 
a rubber at whist." 

These orders Tom essayed very cheerfully 
to carry out, but as they went along he seemed 
possessed for the nonce with a desire to talk 
about Lawyer Fuljames. Miss Rose changed the 
subject very adroitly several times, but Mr. 
Hilton still persisted in turning the conversation 
to that noted lawyer, till Miss Rose finally said: 
"Tom, please never mention Mr. Fuljames' 
name to me again; I ask this of you as a favor !" 

"There's nobody on earth I'd sooner quit 
talking about than Fuljames!" exclaimed Tom. 
"For my part, Miss Rose," he continued, "I 
wish one of those sea-porpoises you wrote about 
in your book would swallow him ! 



]84 ROSE THE VILLI AN. 

"I don't know whether a porpoise could swal- 
low a man, but I don't think it would take a 
very big fish to swallow a small potato like 
Ful James!" 

But as these vagaries evoked no reply from 
his companion, the forbidden name was not 
again mentioned. 

Mr. Hilton arrived at the ball-room in time 
to sail through the first cotillion, and also 
through the first waltz with his charming com- 
panion ; after which, finding that he could not 
retain possession much longer — he escorted 
her the length of the room, that they might pay 
their respects to the distinguished judge, who 
had requested the pleasure of again meeting 
Miss Rose. 

The courtly judge took her by both hands, 
as he spoke to her of her gallant father, whom 
he had known ; and then he complimented her 
on her book which "he had read, not only with 
interest, but with profit. I have informed my 
law class that your book is, in my opinion, a 
work of genius ; and now I take this occasion to 
thank you for your contribution to literature. 
Yes, my young lady, for such a story as brings 
gladness to eyes that fail with wakefulness, and 
consoles sorrow, this, I conceive, is the noblest 
form of fiction." 

Rose was very happy at commendation of her 
writing coming from such high authority, and 



ROSE TRE VILLI AN. 185 

there were no clouds to mar the festivities of 
the evening ; but all went "merry as marriage 
bells," till the late hour when the tired dancers 
sought repose. 

However, there was a little episode "after the 
ball," not down on the programme. 

As Mr. Tom Hilton was walking past the 
hotel "after seeing Miss Rose home," he was 
accosted by Lawyer Fuljames, who with others 
stood in front of the billiard room, the window 
of which was still open, although it was then in 
the small hours of the morning. 

Fuljames called out in a blatant tone : "Hello ! 
Hilton, if you are after money, you'd better let 
Miss Rose alone, and go for Miss Silverside!" 

Hilton turned, and said fiercely : "I'll go for 
you, you — " just then Fuljames aimed a blow 
with his cane at Tom's head, which he warded 
off with his left arm; and before he could repeat 
it, Tom straightened out his strong right arm — 
his fist striking Fuljames squarely on the mouth, 
and actually driving him through the window 
into the billiard room. There he lay for a time 
motionless, with his feet protruding from the 
sill, the only part of his body in view from the 
street ! 

There was a great commotion about the tav- 
ern; the landlord, a friend of Fuljames, ran out 
and caught Tom roughly by the shoulder ; but 
by this time Hilton's mettle was well up and the 



186 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

landlord went down instantly before his power- 
ful stroke. Then looking around very fiercely, 
Hilton said: "I've a notion to go in there and 
finish that one-horse lawyer!" 

But some of the young men gathered about 
him and persuaded him not to do it, and as his 
arm pained him severely he concluded to go down 
to the office of Dr. Squills and have it dressed. 

When Tom appeared at the office of Dr. Squills 
that gentleman was about to retire after the 
fatigues of the ball. 

He examined the wounded arm with a very crit- 
ical eye and pronounced : "No fracture, but if 
there had been one it would have been a compound 
or a comminuted complex one!" 

However, he fixed it up with bandages and 
opodeldoc so that it was very comfortable. 

Then Hilton called out: "Doc," said he, "how 
will a little spiritus frumenti set on me after the 
exercises of the evening?" 

But the learned physician declared "it would 
increase the fever of his wound," and that "he 
must forego that indulgence for the present." 

The doctor who had gotten an inkling of the 
brawl was curious to know "whether the land- 
lord or Fuljames had received any fractures or 
mortal wounds?" 

"I don't know," replied Tom to this query, 
"I only know that the landlord went down, and 
that I knocked Fuljames out of sight!" 



EOSE TEEVILLIAN. 187 

On the next clay the doctor laughed heartily 
as he came to understand the significance of 
Tom's reply as it had reference to Fuljames. 

Now let us turn from the trivial incidents of 
this brawl and take up one of the scattered 
strands that must be woven into the fabric of 
this true tale ; "for aught that we could ever 
read, could ever hear by tale or history, the 
course of true love never did run smooth." 

If we could trace to their source the diverse 
influences that cross like threads in the warp of 
life and shape our destiny, we should be led 
into distant scenes and among strange fellow- 
ships beyond the power of imagination to con- 
ceive. 

Even now after the grand ball at the "Stone 
Tavern," if we shall take the wings of a dove and 
fly far to the eastward ; far beyond the first 
ocean and the night, and then far beyond the 
second ocean till the day wanes toward the 
second night, we shall then be in that distant 
tropical sea where spice islands gem the waves 
and "the amber scent of odorous perfumes" fills 
the air, and where fronded palms spread their 
foliage to the torrid sun. 

Here we shall see a stately ship, foreign from 
beak to talFrail, sailing majestically over the 
silent waters. 

We go aboard this foreign frigate where no 
sound of English speech is heard. All the crew 



188 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

are "Lascars," the officers too are of the Malay 
race ; but surely the captain, who now gives 
over the watch to the first officer and walks aft, 
is not of this race. For as he lifts his cap from 
his swarthy face and smoothes back his dark 
locks, he displays a brow too fair for that of a 
Lascar. 

He enters his cabin and we shall enter with 
him, for this man is none other than Edward 
Dalton, the captain of the ship and the former 
comrade-in-arms of Col. Effingham. 

Now it is the custom of Captain Dalton, when 
alone, to talk aloud to himself in the English 
language that he may not forget his native 
speech during his long exile from his country. 

On entering the cabin he approaches a small 
desk containing books which he examines,saying: 
"I'll see what Raoul gave me to read at Manila. 
I ordered him to give me English works" — 
then he lapses into the languages of the books — 
talks for quite a while — recovers himself and 
repeats in English — "I am tired of Dutch and 
Spanish and the Lascar lingo — no, here is one — 
*The Captain of the Bellerophon : A Tale of 
Nantucket,' by 'Rose Trevillian.' 

"Well, well, I'll have to read it for the sake 
of the English." And then he prepares his 
easy chair, turning it to the light of the port, 
also arranges his lamp to have it ready as the 
evening draws on apace. 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 189 

"What does a woman know about a sea cap- 
tain?" he says, scanning the title curiously as he 
takes up the novel. 

"Trevillian? where have I known that name — 
oh, yes — the colonel of the cavalry — the friend 
of my old colonel — Effingham ! What a flood of 
memories these names revive. I've been a wan- 
derer for a long time and have led an eventful 
life; now I am thirty-two and with a compe- 
tency earned I shall soon return to my native 
hills and renew the friendships of my youth." 

And then Captain Dalton begins to read, and 
he reads on, and the stars come up and go down 
and still he reads on; and when he turns the 
last leaf and "turns in" the day is dawning on 
the Banda Sea. 

Now when next we shall meet this ship-captain 
of the Indies, it may, peradventure, be in the 
town where we left the tired dancers asleep. 

IV. 

Whatever the future may have in store of good 
or evil fortune, it is a true saying: "The veil 
which covers the face of futurity is woven by the 
hand of mercy." 

Winter has returned and a deep snow lies on 
the ground when we again see Miss Rose Tre- 
villian walking down into the town from her 
uncle's residence on the hill. 

The scene is as diiferent from a former one as 



190 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

the season is different ; for now she is well muf- 
fled in furs, and trips along through the snow 
at a livel}^ step to keep warm. As she approaches 
the crossing to the principal street, she notices 
Lawyer Fuljames in conversation with a very 
distinguished looking stranger. 

This man's face was turned from her, but his 
air and figure presented such a strikingly favor- 
able contrast to that of Fuljames that almost 
any young lady would have noticed him. 

Rose passed within a few feet of them and 
had already reached the middle of the street 
when there came to her ears a sound as of the 
breath of the North wind — sonorous, and com- 
manding in intonation as if from the blast of a 
trumpet — "Avast! there, Lassie ! the craft will 
run ye down ! ' ' 

Rose turned and was horrified to see a runa- 
way horse, with the wreck of a sleigh flying at 
his heels, almost upon her! 

He carried no bells, and she had not heard 
the thud of his hoofs in the snow. 

She hesitated; what was she to do — run back, 
or run forward? 

In that supreme moment a strong arm clasped 
her waist; she was lifted from the ground and 
in a bound or two the tall stranger stood on the 
pavement, holding Rose under his arm as he 
would a sack of salt. 

The man was still looking after the horse 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 191 

which a short distance beyond fell — striking his 
head against a tree — and stretched himself in 
death. 

Meanwhile Miss Rose was struggling, and even 
kicking, in an undignified way to rid herself 
from the clasp of her rescuer. 

The stranger, when he turned his head and 
looked at her, set her down instantly and ap- 
peared much embarrassed. He even took off his 
hat, and tried to apologize to her ; but Rose, be- 
ing confused, did not know what he was saying. 

But her own thoughts were — "What a sun- 
browned, handsome face! Pity that scar; maybe 
he's a soldier — but his speech is that of a sailor. 
'Avast! there, lassie!' That's the way he hails 
me! He saved m}^ life, I ought to thank him." 

Miss Rose remembered afterwards with morti- 
fication, that she did not speak one word to 
the stranger. 

However, "she shook herself, and primped 
her feathers like a wet duck." At least that's 
what Miss Silverside said, and she lives oppos- 
ite the place of the accident, and "saw it all." 

That young lady ran across the street, and 
took the very much agitated Miss Rose into her 
own house, and ministered to her wants — chat- 
tering all the time. 

The stranger walked away down the street, 
and disappeared. "Rose, you did struggle 
mightily, and kicked too," laughed Miss Silver- 



192 ROSE TBEVILLIAN. 

side. "And he was such a handsome man,'* 
she cried. "But you are not used to being run 
over, or hugged either, Rose, and you were mor- 
tally skeered, no doubt." 

''He didn't even look at me," replied Rose, 
"until he had seen what had become of the horse. 
He certainl}^ is handsome; he saved my life, but 
he has a grip like a grizzly bear; my ribs ache 
yet." 

Miss Rose Trevillian had been invited to spend 
the day with one of her friends; she was on her 
way to that friend's house when she met with 
the thrilling adventure that may change the cur- 
rent of her whole life. 

After she had become somewhat composed, 
she left Miss Silverside and repaired to her 
friend's house. Here she recounted, in her mod- 
est, fascinating way, her mishaps of the morn- 
ing. A thousand surmises were made by the 
young ladies present in regard to the "gallant 
stranger ;" but their curiosity was not to be grat- 
ified on that day. 

The next morning when Miss Rose met her 
uncle. Col. Effingham, at the breakfast table, 
she was surprised to find him in such excellent 
spirits ; in fact he appeared almost ten years 
younger than on the day before. 

He approached her with a glad smile, and tak- 
ing her by both hands, said: "My lassie, our 
troubles are all over." 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 193 

Now Rose's first thought was, "Whoever called 
me 'Lassie' before? Oh, that whirlwind of a 
stranger when he snatched me from the earth ! 
But what could her uncle mean?" 

While they were at the table, Col. Effingham 
explained to his niece that on the day before, 
when she was absent, he had received a visit 
from Captain Dalton, his former comrade-in- 
arms, whom he had not met for many years. 

Captain Dalton had come all the way from 
the sea-port in order to pay his respects to his 
old colonel, and to apologize to him for the great 
trouble that he, Effingham, had involved him- 
self in, indorsing notes for his father. 

"But now he has removed all these troubles," 
the colonel said, "for he has settled all claims 
against his father's estate. He informed me also, 
that he gave Lawyer Fuljames 'a round rating' 
in regard to the rascally manner in which he had 
managed the business. 

"I am now very happy for I don't owe a cent 
in the world but am rich again," he said. "I am 
also well pleased that I have not been de- 
ceived in Captain Dalton ; but I never doubt- 
ed him for a moment. I have invited him to 
dine with us to-morrow, Rose, when I shall 
take great pleasure in presenting you to one of 
the most gallant men I have ever known !" 

" What is the personal appearance of Captain 
Dalton?" inquired the demure Rose. She was 



194 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

all anxiety, for she began to suspect that he and 
the handsome stranger who had delivered her 
safe from the hoofs of the runaway horse were 
one and the same. 

"Oh, well, child," replied the colonel, "he's 
good enough for looks, in fact, he's a very hand- 
some man; but he's better far than he looks: 
he's as true as steel ! you shall see him to- 
morrow. ' ' 

Rose then recounted to her uncle her fearful 
escape from death — how the stranger, at great 
peril to himself , had snatched her from under 
the horse's feet. She then described her rescuer 
minutely, his manner and dress. Before she had 
finished, the colonel exclaimed: 

"Of course that's Dalton !■;— just like him not 
to say anything about it." 

Miss Rose was somewhat disturbed that Cap- 
tain Dalton had not thought worthy of mention 
the thrilling adventure in which he had saved 
her life. Yet she consoled herself with the re- 
flection that he did not know her and of course 
was not aware that this adventure could be a 
matter of interest to Colonel Effingham. 

She was very busy all that day in preparing 
for the dinner party to be given on the morrow 
to this Captain Dalton of whom her uncle had 
spoken in terms of such ardent friendship. She 
appeared unusually bright and happy ;there was 
a warm flush on her cheeks and her beautiful eyes 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 195 

shone with a glad light which her friends had 
not noted before. 

Col. Effingham had invited a few old army 
officers of the neighborhood to meet Dalton ; 
Miss Rose also invited some of her young friends, 
among whom were Miss Editha Silverside and 
Mr. Tom Hilton. 

It was soon noised abroad in the town that 
Miss Rose Trevillian had been saved from al- 
most certain death by a daring stranger who in 
his effort to rescue her from being trampled to 
death by a runaway horse, had greatly imper- 
illed his own life. 

Then it became the desire of many to see him, 

and the story of the intrepid act that had 

brought Captain Dalton into public notice, was 

very much exaggerated as it passed from one to 

another. 

V. 

O well for the sailor when on that day, 
He turns from the charm of the sea away, 
For the fairest flower of the beautiful hills- 
For the love of Rose his true heart thrills- 
And the sailor forgets the charm of the sea, 
For her love does surpass the charm of the sea ! 

The candles were lighted in the spacious par- 
lors of Col. Effingham's residence, and most of 
the guests had assembled when Captain Dalton 
was observed walking leisurely through the 
winding way of the approach. 

Miss Rose thought it unfortunate that her 



196 EOSE TREVILLIAN. 

uncle at that moment was seated on the side 
portico enjoying a smoke with one of his brother 
officers and that she was left alone to do the 
honors of the occasion. It is true, "Aunt An- 
nette" is there to assist her, but Rose thought 
her uncle's presence would have made the intro- 
duction less embarrassing. 

"Aunt Annette" met the captain at the parlor 
door and led him forward to introduce him ; she 
noticed as his eyes fell on the charming hostess 
that he changed color visibly beneath all the dark- 
ness of his sea-bronzed face. He evidently rec- 
ognized her but went through the ceremony 
creditably, perhaps with the thought that he 
himself was not recognized. 

It was only after Miss Rose in very choice 
and appropriate phrase had thanked him for 
saving her life and apologized for not having 
done so at the time of the accident, that the 
captain seemed really discomfited. 

He hesitated, then said: "Please don't men- 
tion it, Miss Trevillian — a little matter like that 
— pray don't notice it!" 

"A little matter like that!" reiterated Miss 
Rose, who now that she observed the captain so 
much disconcerted, rapidly regained confidence, 
and replied smartly : "Do you call it, sir, a 
email matter — the saving of my life.'"' 

"Oh no, lady, I did not mean that! I meant 
— oh, you know what I meant" — and then they 
both laughed, and the ice was broken. 



ROSE TBEVILLIAN. 197 

Captain Edward Dal ton proved to be an inter- 
esting man in conversation ; there were present 
not only his old colonel but three or four army 
officers who had known him in youth. He was 
a favorite with them all and soon became so 
with his new acquaintances. 

There was much merriment at the table over 
the account of "the rescue of Rose" as narrated 
by Miss Editha Silverside, a society belle, and 
the only eye witness to the occurrence, save Law- 
yer Fuljames, who of course was not present at 
this dinner party. 

Mr. Tom Hilton carried himself with a very 
jaunty air on this festive occasion, but his heart 
was not light. He remarked aside to young 
Cameron : "I believe this Dalton is the very sea- 
captain Rose wrote her book about ; and now he 
has to come out here and rescue her ! 

"Why couldn't I have been there w^hen old 
Bartow's horse was about to run over her! Luck 
never did light on me. I'm afraid my cake is 
all dough!" 

Thus he rattled on to the amusement of sev- 
eral young men in the corner of the room, while 
Miss Rose and the gallant captain were jprome- 
nading on the portico. 

Later on in the evening several of the younger 
set of the young ladies gathered about Mr. Hil- 
ton, and began to twit him about his new rival. 

Tom bore it all in good part till one of these 



198 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

Job's comforters kindly suggested: "He might 
make away with Captain Dalton as he had 
done with Mr. Fuljames!" 

To this Tom then made reply, very slowly 
and gravely : "It is so much easier to forgive a 
big man than a little one !" 

This repartee amused the girls and they con- 
tinued their thrusts at his expense, until he 
finally remarked : "Young ladies when a man is 
under a cloud, the silver lining is on the other side 
— that is the silversideV^ Thereupon, with a sol- 
emn mien he walked across the room and seated 
himself beside Miss Editha Silverside ! 

This was m(»re than the girls could stand, and 
they giggled outrageously ; so that it required 
all of Mr, Hilton's ingenuity in prevarication to 
smoothe over matters with the prim and polished 
Miss Silverside. . 

Captain Dalton was quite the lion of the even- 
ing, especially among the ladies ; but he w^as not 
a demonstrative man and bore his honors meekly. 

The old officers told aside and in undertones 
of his deeds as a boy captain. He himself ap- 
peared much touched by the revival of old 
memories and the cordial reception and the kind 
remembrances of his comrades. 

But of late years his life had been cast among 
a different class, and amid foreign scenes. Yet 
of his adventures on the seas he did not speak, 
and there was no one present who could do so. 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 199 

He had stated on his first appearance at the 
inn that he would probably remain for a few- 
days, only, until he could see some old friends 
and renew some old acquaintances. Yet he had 
remained for many days ; but rumor said, more 
on account of new friends than old ones. 

However this may be, Captain Dalton was in 
constant attendance upon the charming Miss 
Rose; in riding and driving and wandering over 
hill lands, he was her very shadow. 

He told Col. Effingham that "his old cavalry 
instincts had come back to him as soon as he 
had put foot on land." 

This was given in explanation of the fact that 
he had just received from Kentucky two very 
fine thorough-bred saddle horses. 

It was a fine sight to see Miss Rose and the 
captain riding through the forest avenues when 
they were ablaze with all the autumn hues. 

The captain said that never in foreign lands 
had he seen "Such beauty and splendor, and 
that it made his heart glad !" 

As he looked toward the "peerless horsewoman 
at his side, when he spake this — he doubtless 
spoke in all candor and sincerity ! 

Miss Silverside and all the other gossips of 
the town knew exactly how all this was to end; 
and they were right — at least in this instance. 

It happened in this wise, but how it was found 
out is not known. 



200 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

It was a beautiful morniDg in Autumn; Miss 
Rose and the captain were riding along a forest 
path, alight with the blaze of the rising sun, and 
the glories of the season. 

Such was the situation when the captain be- 
gan all at once to talk in a peculiar fashion — 
using sailor-terms and sea-jargon, as Miss Rose 
had never heard him do before. 

But in a little while she became aware that he 
was quoting passages from her own novel. 

As soon as she became conscious of this. Miss 
Rose colored a rosy red, which did not detract 
from her good looks at all, so thought the cap- 
tain. But she would not stand much of this, so 
turning to him, she said: "Why captain! you 
remind me of Mr. Hilton, the way you are talk- 
ing now!" 

His reply was: "I think Mr. Hilton a very 
clever fellow." 

Then Miss Rose continued : "Where on earth 
did you ever see my book?" 

"Your book!" exclaimed the captain. "Why 
are you the Miss Trevillian who wrote the great 
sea novel? Well, well, I'll say first I read your 
book while sailing over the Banda Sea." 

"And where is the Banda Sea?" asked Miss 
Rose irrelevantly, in her happy confusion not 
knowing very well what to say. 

"Many miles from these beautiful hills," the 
<}aptain replied. "Your book fell into my hands 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 201 

by accident at sea. I began to read it one lonely 
night, and soon became so much interested in it 
that I continued to read until I finished it — 
reading all night." 

"You don't mean to say — you read my book 
all night!" exclaimed the astonished and well 
pleased Miss Rose. 

^^Cela va sans dire!''' replied the captain in 
his eagerness to assure her. 

And then he thanked her politely for the en- 
tertainment her book had afforded him when 
lonely and surrounded by those who did not 
speak his native language. 

'Twas then he spoke of his deep affection for 
her, and the new-born hope that had arisen in 
his heart ; and pleaded his cause in such frank 
and manly phrase that the gentle Rose could 
not conceal the riotous joy that mantled in her 
cheeks, and the bold captain would take no 
refusal! 

One evening, a few weeks later, as this couple 
were promenading on the portico, they noticed 
Col. Effingham regarding them with a wistful 
look, as if he had that in his heart which he 
refrained from speaking. 

Then, after a whispered consultation, the 
captain led the blushing Rose to her uncle's 
side, and said: "Colonel, you once called me 
your son on the bittlefield; can you not do so 
now that Rose has promised to be my wife!" 



202 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 

The old colonel seemed stricken with sudden 
joy; he kissed Rose, and hopped about for very 
gladness. 

In congratulating the captain he told him he 
would be in honor bound to name his next ship 
the "Bellerophon." 

The debonair Dalton bowed low in gracious 
courtesy to his fiancee, as he replied: "If I ever 
sail the seas again, my vessel shall be called the 
'Bellerophon;' and her figure-head shall be 
adorned with a 'Rose' — the fairest flower that 
ever bloomed on land to charm a sailor from 
the sea." 

One of the prettiest weddings ever seen, and 
remembered because of many distinguished 
strangers in attendance, was celebrated in the 
"Church under the Maples." 

This took place in the glorious "Month of 
Roses," when the fragrance of flowers revives 
in memory the beautiful creations of the old 
poets. Then we think of Herrick's "Sappho," 
how the Roses were all white until they tried to 
rival her fair complexion, and blushing for 
shame because the}^ were vanquished, have ever 
since remained red. And of the lovelorn Juliet 
as she mused on the moonlit balcony thinking 
that "the rose by any other name would smell 
as sweet." 

And of old Chaucer's "Emilie" with hair 
blown backward gathering roses in the early 



ROSE TREVILLIAN. 20a 

morning: "thrusts among the thorns her little 
hand." And of Milton's "Eve" as she stands 
in Eden half veiled in a cloud of fragrance, "so 
thick the blushing roses round her blow." 

The rose& were also very thick at the marriage 
ceremony of Captain Edward Dalton and Miss 
Rose Trevillian ; for the good ship "Bellerophon" 
was there en miniature, laden with a cargo of 
rarest roses ! 

The church was packed from altar rail to en- 
trance with the fashionables of the town. 

Well up in front, on the right, sat Miss Editha 
Silverside in gorgeous apparel, as prim as the 
erect, yellow primrose ! 

Well up in front, on the left, sat Mr. Tom 
Hilton in stunning array, still trying to keep on 
the silverside of the cloud "that lowered upon 
his house!" The queenly Rose, escorted by her 
distinguished relative. Col. Effingham, was ac- 
companied by tw^o very comely bridesmaids, while 
on seats contiguous sat five army officers, in sup- 
porting distance of their old colonel. 

The bridegroom, this gallant son of Mars and 
of Neptune, was also accompanied by two atten- 
dants; one of them an army officer; but his best 
man w^as a sea-captain whose brown face pre- 
sented a striking contrast to the pearly com- 
plexions of the bridesmaids. 

On a seat hard by were a trio of foreign 
mariners, like sea-gulls on a spar. They had ven- 



204 ROSE TRE VILLI AN. 

tured thus far from the salt water, as they said 
in their dialect: "To honor the captain and the 
winsome lassie, who wrote the great sea-book!" 
Of those present on this joyous occasion there 
remain some who will contend even to this day, 
that this was "the loveliest wedding' ' ever cele- 
brated in the "Church under the Maples." 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED, 

Many years ago, within a dimly lighted room 
of an old manor-house, on Chesapeake Bay, two 
men sat at cards. The dead silence of the night, 
or rather of the early morning, reigned over the 
place. Much money lay piled on the table; 
while the tensely drawn features and eager inter- 
est of the players showed the desperate nature 
of the game. At last, the elder man threw 
down his hand of cards with a great thump, as 
he swept the money from the board, and ex- 
claimed : 

"That's a huckleberry above your persimmon!" 

"When you hold all the aces in the pack, my 
loss is a foregone conclusion," replied his op- 
ponent, as he turned around and rested his head 
on the back of his chair. 

"Oh, well, Bill," said the elder man, as he 
gazed into the handsome, dark features of his 
young companion, "all you've got todoistocall 
on the old man when you need funds;" and he 
stowed his winnings into the pocket of his coat. 

"Not much," said Bill, "I think I've eaten 
my white bread; since father's second marriage, 
he don't seem to show me much favor, and I've 
205 



206 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

resolved to quit this house, where I have scant 
welcome,ancI again seek my fortune beyond seas." 

"Why Bill, you are the only legal heir to your 
mother's large estate, your father has only a life 
interest in it, and he cannot keep you out of it." 

''Well, he is doing it anyway; he has recorded 
the will of my mother, w4iich conveys the prop- 
erty to himself, 'her beloved husband.' " 

While the speaker, William Walcott, was re- 
counting this, his hearer, Lawyer Chapman, list- 
ened with manifest interest. 

After a long pause, the lawyer said: "Bill, 
there must be something wrong about this busi- 
ness ; I knew your mother when she was young, 
and I was young, and a kinder woman never 
lived on the earth. She never disinherited her 
only child, though that child was yourself, a 
wild rover, in foreign parts when she died." 

In this strain he talked for some time, but the 
young man made no reply. Finally the old law- 
yer, in a querulous tone, said : 

"Why don't you talk? When did you first hear 
of this will, before your father's second marriage, 
or only since your new mother came on the tapis?" 

Thus appealed to, the young man sat up and 
smoothed back his hair; but he paused in 
thought, before he said: "The will was recorded 
within the last month. I never heard of it be- 
fore, but I hear much of it now; especially from 
my new mother; and finding myself an unwel- 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 207 

come guest in my own house, I have resolved to 
quit" — he stopped suddenly, arose, and re- 
lieved his feelings by kicking the chair across 
the room. This raised a great noise which re- 
echoed in the wainscoted room of the old man- 
sion ; when this had subsided, the lawyer whis- 
tled low: "Is it so bad as that?" he said; then 
he put his hand under his coat slowly, and as if 
with great reluctance, drew forth the money he 
had won. This he handed to the young man, 
saying : "Take that, William, I never pluck a 
wounded pigeon; you'll need that on your trav- 
els, for I see you are going, and I don't blame 
you; however, I'll keep back a tenner for contin- 
gent expenses," he said on second thought, as 
he withdrew that amount. "The other you can 
repay me when you are able," he concluded. 
"But are you sure this will is all regular?" 

"I asked Guilford, who, as you know, has 
been the family lawyer for many years, to in- 
quire into the matter. He expressed great sur- 
prise that he had not known of the will before, 
but upon searching the records, he declared that 
it was all regular and that I had been disinher- 
ited. He is a cautious man, and while he says 
this, he will look at me and shake his head in 
doubt and wonder." 

Chapman's only reply was: "Guilford is a 
good lawyer and he may well shake his head 
over such business as this!" Then he looked at 



208 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

his watch, and remarked: "It is now in the 
wee small hours and it is time to be going." 

Walcott then walked around the table and 
said, as he took the old lawyer by the hand : 
"Mr. Chapman, I shall remember your kindness 
to me ; it may be long, if ever, before we meet 
again ;but I trust I shall be able to return to you 
or yours, all that I owe you." 

"No obligations at all, my boy!" exclaimed 
the lawyer. "I remember old scores and I wish 
you well — you are a wild blade, William, but of a 
generous strain and I hope you may yet come 
into your own." He then shook hands warmly, 
and took his leave. 

The young man sat long with bowed head, as 
if in deep thought, then rose and walked down 
the pathway, out the gate. 

After this night, William Walcott was not 
seen again at "Bolton House," which stood on a 
rocky peninsula overlooking Chesapeake Bay,- 
in lower Virginia. This mansion, situated in 
the midst of farm lands, surrounded by ancient 
oaks, was the manor house of the estate which 
had been the marriage portion of his mother, 
and which should now belong to him as her le- 
gal heir. But upon his return from his travels, 
he had found that his father had married again, 
and that he himself had been dispossessed of his 
natural inheritance by the will of his mother^ 
It seemed wonderful that no one had known of 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 209 

the existence of this will until after his father's 
second marriage. It was equally unfortunate 
that the officers of the probate court, and all 
who had had to do with the will had passed 
away. He pondered over the strange injustice 
of the act, and the wrong that had been prac- 
ticed upon him ; yet he accepted the opinion of 
the family lawyer as final, and abandoning his 
cause, he walked forth into the night, and the 
darkness inclosed him. 

On the following morning the absence of 
William Walcott from home excited no surprise 
in the family circle as his habits had been irreg- 
ular since his return from abroad. 

After the lapse of several weeks his friends 
heard by chance, through the Cunard office in 
New York, that he had taken passage on one of 
their ships for Liverpool, bound thence to the 
gold fields of South Africa. 

Amid the gayeties and festivities that were 
now held under the new regime at Bolton House, 
the rightful heir to the estate seemed apparently 
forgotten. 

The new mistress of the mansion was youth- 
ful and gay, and entertained much company. 
She required of her servants and dependents 
that they should address her as^Lady Walcott." 
But the negro people of the neighborhood per- 
sisted in calling her "Miss Frances." This arose 
perhaps from the circumstance that she would 



210 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

employ none of them about her house, saying, 
"she had never been used to negroes." 

Even had it been otherwise the astounding, 
mysterious happenings at this residence within 
the next few months would have dispersed and 
banished every mother's son of this superstitious 
race from the premises. 

A short time after the disappearance of the 
young heir orBolton House, Lawyer Chapman 
met Miss Kate Beuchtel, the housekeeper to 
Lady Walcott. 

"When will Mr William Walcott return?" 
said Miss Kate to the lawyer as they met at the 
post office. 

"Indeed, my young lady, I don't know," he 
replied. "Why don't you inquire of lawyer 
Guilford, he is the legal light of the family and 
is expected to know all things." 

"Mr. Guilford is not a friend to Mr. William 
— I know that," she answered. 

"Miss Kate is a true friend to Mr. William," 
said the lawyer, looking her steadily in the 
eye. 

The girl colored painfully, and with a toss of 
the head, started to move on, but paused and 
remarked rather saucily : "Yes, I am, Mr. Chap- 
man, and you are too ! What do you think now 
of that will that has just been found, which 
takes everything away from the poor boy?" 

"I think," said Chapman with his accustomed 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 211 

bluntness, "that it is wrong, and ought not to 
be allowed to stand ! ' ' 

"Why then, don't you right this wrong done 
to your young friend — you are a lawyer!" said 
the girl warmly. 

"Lawyers do not usually try to right wrongs 
unsolicited," he replied. "Besides, Mr. William 
has abandoned his own case and left the country, 
I believe, not to return." 

"Don't you think he'll come back after while?" 
she said in evident distress. 

"I do not," answered the lawyer; "he is of a 
proud nature, and very fixed in his notions." 

Tears welled up in her dark eyes as he said 
this ; and she made an effort to speak, but her 
emotions seemed to choke her utterance. 

Finally she replied: "Well, he has one friend 
left here who will not forget him, and some 
people will find that out, too, to their long sor- 
row!" 

Then she left the office, and the lawyer mar- 
veled much as he noted the flash of fire in her 
eyes. His reflections were: "That girl has more 
force of character than I gave her credit for; 
she may do something yet outside of the com- 
monplace !" 

Bolton House was supplied with many modern 
conveniences, rare even in city residences at the 
date of this story. A former proprietor, a man 
of science, had erected a private gas works 



212 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

which furnished light and fuel to the premises. 
Dumb-waiters and elevators run by water power 
moved noiselessly between the floors, and speak- 
ing tubes communicated with the chambers. 
The superb dancing hall with waxed floor and 
brilliant chandeliers was often the scene of rev- 
elry. The present proprietor, Thomas Walcott, 
had followed the sea, and his trim yacht was 
now moored in a picturesque boathouse, just at 
the foot of the yard at the head of the inlet. 
Surmounting the house was an immense glass 
dome, from which at night shone a great light, 
the beacon to the harbor. 

It was at a ball given just before Christmas 
by Lady Walcott, in honor of city guests — and 
to her sister. Miss Celeste Stanley — that a mys- 
terious and startling occurrence took place in 
the dancing hall. 

There were many guests from the city ; the 
large hall was quite full and an excellent band 
was playing; the night was about half spent 
and the festivities were at full height when the 
lights were suddenly extinguished and the hall 
was left in total darkness ! 

The surprise was sudden, the silence profound 
for a few seconds, and then murmurs began to 
be heard in the vast crowd until a feeble light 
was visible high up on the middle wall — when 
exclamations arose — "What is it?" "It's a 
hand!" "It's on fire !" "What is it writing?" 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 213 

Then overcome with awe they remained silent 
as they conned in the flaming letters on the wall, 
this jingle of rhyme: 

''Read my riddle if you can. 

This house belongs to the younger man." 

The hand that wrote shone with some lumin- 
ous substance, and appeared to protrude from 
a dim form; and hand, form and inscription all 
paled and faded away in a few seconds. Yet it 
seemed altogether miraculous ; the crowd was 
dazed with fear ; a few persons near the door 
ran out and women screamed. Thomas Walcott, 
a rugged man of sixty years, was seated near 
one of the large windows in conversation with a 
lady. He arose and threw up the sash, then in 
loud, stern tones ordered the servants to bring 
lights as the gas was filling the room. 

When this had been done there was nothing 
to be seen on the wall, and the scared dancers 
were more mystified as they began to consider 
how the lights had been put out while the gas 
was still flowing through the pipes. This the 
head servant declared had been the case ; the 
gas plug was in the yard covered with mud and 
had not been tampered with while the escaping 
gas pervaded the house. 

Thomas Walcott stood for some time after the 
room had been relighted, gazing at the spot 
where the inscription had been. It was all too 
much for this unlearned, seafaring man with 



214 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

much of the sailor superstition in his composi- 
tion. However, he was brave and even stern 
when dealing with human affairs, and he now 
turned to his guests and said: ''Friends, I don't 
understand this, but go on with the dance ; this 
seems some ill-timed trick played by s ^me mal- 
icious person to injure me before my friends; 
do not let it interfere with our merrymaking, 
but go on with your dance." 

The music began and the dance continued, in a 
half-hearted way, but it was soon over and 
dancers and guests retired to discuss the start- 
ling occurrences of the night. 

This affair was almost the sole topic of con- 
versation in the village for several days, and 
distorted accounts of it appeared in the city 
papers. The family at Bolton House, however, 
refused to discuss the subject. 

The fact that the former proprietor of this 
residence had somewhere about the building a 
laboratory or "ghost room," as they called it, 
and which had not been found by the present 
occupants, was given as a circumstance that may 
have had to do with the apparition on the wall 
which had terrified the dancers and for which 
no rational explanation was offered. 

Lady Bolton was greatly disturbed at the in- 
terruption to the holiday festivities, but con- 
cluded to dispel the gloom that was over the 
place by a grand ball on New Year's Eve. The 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 215 

preparations for the same were very elaborate and 
many invitations were sent out. 

When the eventful evening came the parlors 
and dancing hall were filled with the elite of 
society, both of the neighborhood and nearby 
cities ; but it was noticed as a circumstance 
worthy of remark that many staid people who 
were present at the first entertainment were now 
absent. 

Even from those present there was many a 
hurried, scared look directed towards the spot 
where, on the wall, the mysterious writing had 
occurred; yet the night waned and nothing hap- 
pened, nor was like to happen, for in the early 
evening Thomas Walcott had called to him his 
handsome housekeeper, Miss Kate Beuchtel, and 
had remarked significantly that "if there was 
any more handwriting on the wall it had better 
be done by a body as thin as that of a ghost or 
else it would stop a pistol bullet!" 

Miss Kate, shortly after that was observed in 
earnest conversation with two of the house-maids. 
Meantime everything went well with the danc- 
ers — even "charmingly," as one of the young 
guests remarked to Lady Walcott. Despite all 
that, exactly as the great clock in the hall-way 
was on the stroke of midnight — the lights were 
extinguished absolutely from the gleaming 
"light-house" in the cupola to the basement 
story — all was left in utter darkness! 



216 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

It is difficult to give any adequate expression 
to the scene that followed — women screamed of 
course — the fumes of the escaping gas pervaded 
the house — there was a great rush by the fren- 
zied people for the hall-way — and midway of 
the hall three youn* ladies who had a good start 
and were running out, hand in hand, as if for 
mutual support — ran plump against an artic- 
ulated, gleamy skeleton that was dangling from 
the center chandelier ! They fell down in a 
dead faint and were quiet for the time. 

This terrible skeleton without doubt saved 
their lives; for the frightful object, swaying to 
and fro, parted the rushing crowd to the right 
and left of the broad hallway ; otherwise these 
girls would have been trampled to death. 

A man came along, and striking a match, 
lighted one burner of the chandelier to the dan- 
ger of an explosion; but he noticed that all the 
windows in the long hallway had been raised. 
Thomas Walcott, who came next, also noticed 
this ; his fury was unbounded and he seemed 
a dangerous man ; he tore down the skeleton 
and trampled it to pieces on the tile flooring ! 

Unfortunately, for him, the next to appear on 
the scene was the head waiter. He was pale 
with fright, but grew paler still as Walcott 
grasped him by the neck, threw him to the 
floor and would have trampled him under foot 
had he not been restrained by the men about, 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 217 

as he hissed between his clinched teeth : "What 
means tliis tomfoolery — this conspiracy in my 
house?" 

The house was soon relighted, but the guests 
were thoroughly panic stricken and hastily took 
their departure without any formal leave-taking. 

Lady Walcott retired to her room and was not 
seen again, even by the servants of the house- 
hold, for several days. After she became some- 
what composed she stated that she and her 
husband had concluded to return to the city for 
the remainder of the winter, and in the spring 
they would have Bolton House repaired and 
refurnished. 

This plan was carried out; they dismissed the 
servants and retired to the city, but did not 
take up their residence here again, as they had 
expected to do. It was not till late in the fol- 
lowing May that an architect and house decora- 
tors came down to make the needed repairs. As 
thftre was no change made in the building, some 
of the citizens surmised that the architect had 
been employed that he might" through his tech- 
nical skill discover and explain the mysterious 
happenings at this house which had given it a 
bad reputation, and fixed upon it the name of 
the "haunted house." 

If this was the purpose of the architect he 
signally failed, for a critical examination of the 
whole premises presented no clue that led to an 



218 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

explanation of the mysteries that overhung the 
place. After the furnishers and decorators were 
through with their work, the house was closed 
again, and so remained until late in the fall. 
Then word was received that the master and 
mistress w^ould return on their yacht from a voy- 
age along the coast, accompanied by a few 
friends, and would make a brief stay at Bolton 
House. Upon the reception of this announce- 
ment, the servants were collected, and the house 
put in order. 

The yacht was to reach her landing at the 
head of the inlet about nine o'clock on the fol- 
lowing Saturday night ; all was in readiness, but 
as it had not arrived at midnight the servants 
retired, and all the lights were out save the 
light m the cupola, "the light-house," which 
was the beacon by which the master was to pilot 
his craft up the narro\v, rocky inlet. 

Half an hour later, the greatest crime of the 
seas was perpetrated — God forbid that any 
light in any light-house should fail in the 
midnight and the storm! — yet that is what 
happened at Bolton House ;for, just half an hour 
after the servants had retired, the great light 
in the cupola was extinguished, as if snuffed 
out by a mighty hand ! There was no one awake 
to notice this, and it was not known at the 
house until after daylight. 

But far down the bay, this is what occurred; 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 219 

half an hour after midnight, the yacht of Cap- 
tain Thomas Walcott was struggling in a heavy 
cross-sea, about two knots below the lower head- 
land of the inlet. Walcott himself was at the 
wheel, his passengers, two ladies and two gen- 
tlemen were in the cabin, all very sea-sick ; his 
three seamen were at their posts on deck. This 
was the situation when the most fearful storm 
arose that was ever known on Chesapeake Bay. 

But Captain Walcott was thoroughly familiar 
with his surroundings, his craft was a stanch 
one ; he was soon running before the storm under 
bare poles, and steering by the light in the 
cupola of his own house. He had every reason 
to hope that he would make the harbor in safety. 
Now, w^hile he was holding hard with both 
hands on the wheel, in tacking, with the wind 
on his port bow, and the weaves washing the 
deck, his eyes were steadily fixed on the light 
by which he was steering when it suddenly 
went out! He let go the wheel with one hand, 
and rubbed his eyes, as if he could not believe 
his senses — but the light was gone ! and when 
he realized this — though his heart was sinking 
— he uttered a sub.^tantial oath in cursing "the 
light that failed!" 

He called his oldest seaman to the wheel ; he 
with the other two went to the life-boat, and 
loosed the tackle in the davits ; no questions 
were asked, the sailors unt'erstood, and the pas- 



220 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

sengers in the cabin were unconscious of their 
danger. These preparations finished, he walked 
aft and again took charge of the wheel. An 
hour later, w^hile he was baffling with the seas 
with rare seamanship, the noble craft was 
dashed upon a rock, and began to settle down 
immediately. The passengers rushed out of the 
cabin in wild dismay, but were met by Walton 
and his sailors who took possession of them, 
crowded them into the life-boat without cere- 
mony — lowered away, cut loose, and put off 
without the loss of a moment. It was well — for 
they had barely cleared the vessel w4ien she gave 
a lurch forward, and went down by the bows 
beneath the weaves in some twenty fathoms of 
water. 

The life-boat with its human freight was now 
tossing on the rough waters in the inky black- 
ness of the night. Walcott was at the helm, 
two sailors at the oars, the third bailing con- 
stantly to keep afloat ; the passengers, one of 
whom was Lady Walcott, lay helplessly in the 
bottom of the boat unnoticed by those who were 
making the brave struggle for life. 

All through the weary hours of that night 
Walcott's brain was troubled with bitter 
thoughts not unmixed with superstition, as he 
brooded over the light that had failed him at his 
utmost need and left him a wreck on the wild 
waters. He determined if he should escape the 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 221 

perils that were about him that light should 
never be relighted, but remain out forever and 
mislead no other mariner on the seas. 

The sun was gilding the east when the life- 
boat broke through the surf and grated on a 
sand bar six miles below Bolton house and half 
a mile from a fishing hut. The women were 
supported to the hut where some substantial 
refreshments were found. The fisherman was 
dispatched to the neighboring farm to procure 
a vehicle ; he returned with a two-horse wagon ; 
in this the party were conveyed to Bolton House, 
arriving there about ten o'clock in the morning 
to relate their story of shipwreck and sufPering. 

No explanation could be made by the servants 
why the light had failed, and before the day was 
over Thomas Walcott sent to the village for a 
mechanic, and all the gas fixtures were removed 
from the dome. 

The next day the family returned to town; 
the servants were discharged, and Bolton House 
remained closed.- Several weeks later the archi- 
tect returned and removed the cupola from the 
house and remodeled the roof; even then the 
mystery was not discovered. 

One day late in the fall Thomas Walcott 
called at the office of Lawyer Chapman, a cir- 
cumstance unusual, as they were not on friendly 
terms. He took a chair upon invitation and 
commenced abruptly — 



222 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

"You are in correspondence with my son, 
William, I have been told." 

"I have received two or three letters from him 
since he has been in Africa," the lawyer an- 
swered. 

"When does he expect to return?" 

"I understand that it is his intention not to 
return at all," was the reply. 

Thereupon, Walcott drew forth a legal paper 
which he requested the lawyer to read. 

This he did, seemingly, with great satisfac- 
tion, and when he had finished he turned to 
"Walcott and said : 

"Captain, that is all right, and I congratulate 
you heartily upon this just act, but why do you 
show this to me?" 

"As you see," Walcott replied, "this is a deed 
in fee simple, granting to my son, William, the 
Bolton House and whole estate which had been 
the property of his mother. She left this prop- 
erty to me with the verbal understanding that I 
should transfer it to him upon coming of age. 
This matter I have delayed to do — being unduly 
influenced by others; but now I right this 
WTong and ask you as the friend of my son to 
write to him and ask him to come home and live 
among his people, first informing him what I 
have done." 

The lawyer eagerly assented and in his delight 
at the turn affairs had taken, he gave ex- 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 223 

pression to one or two unguarded thoughts as 
follows: "Miss Kate Beuchtel will be glad to 
hear of this, and there will be no more disturb- 
ances at Bolton House!" 

Walcott looked him sternly in the face and 
said : "What had Miss Beuchtel to do with the 
disturbances you refer to?" 

"I don't know," the lawyer replied hastily, 
"perhaps I ought not to have said that, but you 
know that she and your son have been lovers 
since childhood, and she was very much wrought 
up when she heard that he had been dispossessed 
of the Bolton property." 

"I think myself," the captain replied, "she 
had something to do with that matter, but how 
that light was put out, I never could fathom." 
Then as his thoughts recurred to the scenes of 
that night, he continued : "What a mortal sin it 
be to douse the light of a beacon on a stormy 
night when there be naught to pilot by!" 

He spoke with so much feeling the lawyer 
was moved to say: "I believe the person who 
did that did it without any thought of ship- 
wreck or without any knowledge of the storm 
raging on the lower bay at the time. They were 
only trying to frighten you, captain." 

' 'Well they did it, ' ' he said. And continuing : 
*'I teU you, sir, we were all nigh unto death for 
four hours ! Had Bolton light been aglow on 
that night my yacht would not now be at the 



224 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

bottom of the bay !" Ashe said this he walked 
out of the office. 

The letter which Lawyer Chapman sent to his 
young friend, William Walcott, by way of Cape 
Town, Africa, at the request of his father, 
contained this paragraph : 

"Come home, William, and take possession of 
your own ; the sport is still fine along the old 
Bay shore ; the Club will welcome their gamest 
sportsman; the finest estate is yours; the pretti- 
est girl awaits your coming; the times are pro- 
pitious; you cannot tarry!" 

^ ^ * * * 

It is needless to say, William Walcott returned 
to his Virginia home on the receipt of thi& 
letter ; and a few months thereafter was united 
in marriage with the beautiful Miss Kate 
Beuchtel, and that they took up their residence 
at Bolton House. 

Some months later when there was pleasant 
company at this fine old residence, the young 
mistress, Kate Walcott, took the old captain 
by the arm and led him into the ancient 
library where, after removing books from three 
shelves, she showed him that this section of the 
bookcase was hung on three hinges, and on the 
opposite side of the same section there was a 
secret spring, which, upon pressing, the whole 
section of the bookcase swung around, disclosing 
behind a small door which seemed to open into 



THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 225 

the jamb of the chimney. Lighting a lamp, the 
lady opened this door, and ushered the captain 
into the secret closet of the scientist who once 
lived here. 

It was an uncanny place, cluttered up with 
specimens of bones, herbs, minerals and chemi- 
cals ; together with instruments and implements 
of curious construction. The room was only 
three and a half feet deep, about six feet wide, 
and extended in height to the roof ; in one cor- 
ner was a ladder fastened to the wall, which 
seemed to lead nowhere and to answer no useful 
purpose ; as it stopped midway the wall, which 
wall was the inner surface of the wainscoting of 
the dancing hall. 

The young lady pointed out to Thomas Wal- 
cott the main gas-pipe running through this 
closet, and showed him the plug by means of 
which the gas could be controlled without access 
to the one used by the family in the yard. 

She then apologized prettily for having shut 
off the light from the "light-house," on the 
night of the storm. "She had done it in her 
ignorance only to frighten, and not to harm — 
could she ever be forgiven for that foolish, 
wicked act!" 

She was abashed and troubled as she made 
the confession, for the grave, stern man smiled, 
and bowed in silence. 

But mustering up her courage as she came to 



226 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

the lighter comedy, she took up a stick of phos- 
phorous from the table of the old chemist, and 
climbed the ladder that led to nowhere. When 
she was ten feet from the floor she removed a 
spring and slid back one of the panels of the 
wainscoting, and putting her arm through the 
opening she showed the captain how the hand- 
writing had been made on the wall! 

Then the old man laughed. 

When she came down and rejoined him, he 
said: "Well, well, let bygones be bygones. I 
always thought there was some conjuring trick 
about that, and I have lain awake at night turn- 
ing that thing over in my thick head, but I 
couldn't make it out!" 

Then the young woman laughed. 

•St ^ * * * 

Thomas Walcott, with the breath of the sea in 
his resonant voice,continued : "But my daughter, 
that night down on the bay, the blackest night 
I ever saw — when there were no moon and 
stars — when the wind was blowing a hurricane 
and the waves were breaking over the deck — 
when I was steering by Bolton Beacon — and the 
light went out — I thought the bottom had fallen 
out of the world ! 

' 'I am an old man and have weathered the 
storms of the seas — and though I forgive you 
freely — I can never forget The Light that 
Failed!" 



ON THE TRAIL. 



The first "meet" of the fox-hounds of the 
Eedwood Club was held this season at Coverdale, 
a pretty village nestling among the hills, distant 
twenty miles from the Club House. 

The Club-men had come down the evening 
previous to the day appointed for the chase, and 
had made themselves comfortable for the night 
at the quaint wayside inn. And now the morn- 
ing of the "meet," after a substantial breakfast 
by candle-light, they were preparing their 
"mounts" in the narrow street of the village. 

The day had dawned with a fair promise of a 
successful hunt; the air was moist; the wind 
was light and southerly ; and every true fox- 
hunter knew "the scent would lay." 

One veteran of the chase, as he was tighten- 
ing the girth of his saddle, gave a searching 
glance over the back of his "hunter" to the 
fields and sky, and then remarked: "The pack, 
on such a day as this, would follow the trail 
breast high at full speed without putting a nose 
to the ground." 

This was a hearty prophecy to which there 
227 



228 ON THE TRAIL. 

was no dissenting voice among the "red-coats" 
that thronged the street. 

The level rays of the rising sun began now to 
enlighten the animated scene ; the master of the 
hounds wound his horn ; and the pack of fifty- 
two dogs, all spotted, black, white and tan, 
thorough-bred fox-hounds, gave an answering 
cry in chorus, yet each in his own peculiar note, 
which fell upon the ears of the assembled 
huntsmen as rarest music. 

The Redwood Club was composed of fifty 
members ; a choice lot of city men mostly young, 
but there Avere a few veterans of the chase 
among them who had learned to ride under cir- 
cumstances in which a fall from a horse had 
been regarded as the least of the dangers that 
beset them. 

When all was ready the master of the hounds 
wound his horn again, very cheerily, and with 
the baying of the dogs and the clatter of hoofs 
the gay cavalcade moved noisily through the 
village street and was soon afield. 

This was the most gallant array of horsemen 
that had ever assembled at a "meet" of the Red- 
wood Club, and the citizens of Coverdale were 
correspondingly excited at the unwonted scene. 

They proposed to honor the occasion to the 
extent of preparing a sumptuous dinner for their 
sporting guests at the close of the hunt. The 
dinner party was to be held at a private resi- 



ON THE TRAIL. 229 

dence which was the most pretentious mansion 
in the village. However, the entertainment 
was a town affair, and all who could do so were 
expected to take part in it, especially the young 
ladies, as the guests they desired to honor were 
for the most part young men, the elite of city 
society. 

Sometime after the echo of the horn and the 
baying of the hounds had died away and the 
street had resumed its wonted silence, the parson 
of the village — "Parson" Dilworth — came driv- 
ing along together with his friend and guest, 
Dr. Hooper. 

The doctor had come down from the city to 
attend the "meet of the fox-hounds;" although 
he was too old a man to ride afield, yet his 
enthusiasm for the royal sport remained unim- 
j)ared, and it was his delight to ride, even in 
his buggy, within sight and hearing of the 
hounds. 

Parson Dilworth, also an aged man, was a 
most congenial companion for the doctor on 
such an occasion. He was heard to say to young 
Vernon — the only member of the club belonging 
to the village — "I do really love a little manly 
sport now and then and I fear very much that 
the modern young man who is content with ball 
and lawn-tennis is becoming a little too effem- 
inate!" 

The parson and Doctor Hooper drove along 



230 ON THE TRAIL. 

the turnpike in the direction taken by the 
*'hunt," and it was their good fortune to come 
in sight of the "field." 

Here they stopj^ed on the ridge as the hunt 
was bearing away from the road, and as they 
gazed across the fields they saw the grand 
"burst'' when the fox "broke cover," and heard 
the stirring cry of the huntsmen: "Tallyho! 
Gone away! Tallyho ! Gone away!" 

It was a gallant sight, and they watched the 
riders under whip and spur as they strove to 
keep up with the hounds until the outlines of 
their figures grew dim in the distance and fin- 
ally disappeared behind an intervening ridge. 

They were much elated at the scene, and 
the parson, who knew the country well, said: 
"The road takes a turn about a half mile 
beyond here ; let us drive on, we may come in 
sight of the chase again." 

When they arrived at the point indicated by 
the parson they did perceive two horsemen, one 
of them a "red-coat" mounted on a splendid 
chestnut "hunter ;" but his companion was not in 
hunting costume and was mounted on a stocky 
"roadster;" these horsemen were the only part of 
the hunt in sight. 

The doctor took out his field-glass and looked 
at them long and steadily ; they were gradually 
approaching the road on a diagonal line, and as 
the sun broke through a rift in the clouds he dis- 



ON THE TEAIL. 231 

cerned them plainly. Thereupon, handing his 
glass to the parson, he exclaimed : 

"Why, bless my life ! if that isn't Montague 
and old Lawyer Wingfield." 

"What!" said the parson, "is that Wingfield? 
Was it not in his city office that death overtook 
our poor Martin Rus'sel!" 

"Yes," was the doctor's reply, "and I never 
could understand how a narrow soul like Wing- 
field could find enjoyment in a fox chase; there 
seems to be something incongruous in the mere 
fact of his attendance on such sport." 

While the two friends conversed the horsemen 
had drawn near enough to be plainly visible to 
the naked eye. 

Wingfield was a tall, gaunt man who sat his 
horse in a slouching fashion that ill became the 
hunting field. 

In contrast, Montague, a man of medium 
stature, was "cast in a mold for manly sports." 
His hair was iron gray, the only evidence of age 
noticeable, as he sat his noble hunter with an 
ease and grace that proclaimed the practiced 
horseman. 

The old parson closed his spyglass very delib- 
erately and remarked : "I have seen that man 
Wingfield once or twice before and I must say 
I don't like him ! There seems to be some mys- 
terious or malign influence about him." 

"I think myself he is a very secretive man," 
replied the doctor briefly. 



232 ON THE TRAIL. 

''Is that Mr. Montague, the detective, of whom 
young Vernon was speaking?" queried the 
parson. 

"Yes, that is Col. Montague." 

"He is not a young man," observed the par- 
son, "and he seems to have a frank and open 
countenance. I should have taken him for a 
manly, generous man, never for a detective." 

"Parson, you read men well," answered the 
old physician. "Montague is not a young man, he 
is at least Mtj, and he is as frank and manly as 
you have read him : nevertheless, he is a detec- 
tive, yet something more than a detective." 

Just at this time several hounds "opened out" 
in the covert on the hillside, about two hundred 
yards in front of the horsemen who were the 
subject of conversation; and almost immediately 
thereafter a fox "burst" from the cover, closely 
pursued by six hounds. 

At this, Montague with the cry of "Tally- 
ho!" put his hunter to speed and rapidly drew 
on the hounds. 

The doctor and the parson as they occupied 
high ground thought it best to retain their posi- 
tion. 

The fox bore straight away holding his own 
w^ith the hounds and the solitary huntsman in 
pursuit ; for Wingfield could not be said to have 
a part in the race as he jogged along on his fat 
roadster. 



ON THE TRAIL. 233 

It was a hot chase ; Montague was riaing in a 
gallant fashion and was almost up with the 
hounds. Reynard, being hard pressed, had 
turned towards the ridge and the covert on the 
left, but the cry of a stray hound in the brush 
had turned him back again, when he continued 
straight ahead toward the brook, w^hich crossed 
the line of the chase about fifty yards in advance. 

It seemed now that the hounds were gaining 
on the fox as they approached the "run," but 
he turned quickly aside and ran across the top 
rail of a water gate without wetting his "brush;" 
beyond, he sought the friendly cover of the 
thick undergrowth which here closed the way. 

The hounds in full cry ran straight ahead 
with noses in air; they plunged into the brook 
which was full to the banks, and paddling over 
with w^himpering cry were soon lost to view in 
the thicket. 

They were scarcely out of the water when 
Montague's chestnut hunter at full speed sprang 
upon the bank, and at one brave bound cleared 
the brook ! But unfortunately the bank broke 
under him, as he made the leap, and the gallant 
horse fell prone on the opposite side ! 

Nothing daunted, his rider with rein and spur 
lifted him to his feet, and was away before one 
could realize that he had been down. 

Thirty yards beyond the brook there was a 
rail fence, about five feet high, which enclosed 
the wood. 



234 ON THE TRAIL. 

Over this fence Montague shot like a red me- 
teor, and disappeared in the underbrush beyond ! 

The hounds were now running in from all 
directions and there was a great clamor as the 
chase bore along the wooded ridge ; but as yet 
none of the huntsmen had come into view. 

Twenty minutes later the fox again broke 
from the covert. There were then a large num- 
ber of hounds at his heels, and Montague was 
riding in the midst as straight as a bolt ! Thus 
they ran at a tremendous space for fifty yards 
until they passed over the ridge and out of sight. 

The doctor, all wrought up with excitement, 
turned to the parson and exclaimed: "There 
never was a more gallant sight than that ! Mon- 
tague does stir my old blood with his noble 
horsemanship !" 

"He is indeed a fearless rider, I never saw 
one more so," replied the parson. 

"By the way. Doctor," he remarked after a 
pause, "is this Montague a relative of the cav- 
alry colonel who led the famous charge on the 
day you were wounded?" 

"Why Parson, this is the man himself!" 

"0, well then, " replied the minister, "I am 
not surprised at his feats in the hunting field. 
But I doubt if there is another man in the Club 
who would have taken the hazard of that leap, 
while going at such fearful speed." 

Then after he had congratulated the doctor 



ON THE TRAIL. 235 

on having witnessed so much of the sport, he 
turned his vehicle around and drove slowly back 
towards the village. 

As it so happened they were overtaken by 
Lawyer Wingfield mounted on his fat cob. 

"How are you, Doctor? This is a fine day 
for sport," was his salutation as he rode up. 

To this the doctor gave assent by a stiff nod. 
Wingfield, nothing abashed by his cool recep- 
tion, began to dilate on the incidents of the 
chase. The doctor bluntly stopped his harangue 
by the query: 

"Wingfield, you heard the verdict of the cor- 
oner's inquest in the case of Martin Russel before 
leaving town?" 

"Of course I was a witness in the case," was 
the reply. "They returned as their verdict that 
he had died of apoplexy ; there was nothing else 
to do; the physicians all said he died of apo- 
plexy." 

"I did not say so." 

"Oh no. Doctor, you testified that you did not 
know of what he died." 

"I may know some day !"was Doctor Hooper's 
reply. 

At this rejoinder a scowl darkened the lawyer's 
face, as he remarked : "I don't see why you talk 
to me in this manner, and on an occasion when 
a more pleasant theme should be the subject of 
conversation. That fellow, Montague, had the 



236 ON THE TRAIL. 

bad taste to broach this subject to me on the 
hunting field. I want to hear no more of this 
from you, Doctor; I'll ride on now as I wish to 
catch the train for the city." 

After he had passed out of hearing the doc- 
tor said to his companion: "He will hear some- 
thing more from me on this subject whether he 
wishes to or not, when the proper time comes." 

"Gracious! Doctor, you don't think Martin 
Russel died an unnatural death, do you?" 
queried the parson. 

• "Parson, I have been a surgeon for fifty 
years ; I have seen a number of fatal cases of 
apoplexy, and have read of many more : but I 
never knew a case in which the patient had the 
constitution, physique and youth of poor Martin 
Russel." And then after a pause, he continued : 
*I admit the symptoms were all those of apo- 
plexy, and the young ph3'sicians who assisted 
me in the post mortem had no doubt that was 
the cause of his death. Yet we old physicians 
know more than the books — we have our in- 
stincts and intuitions that seldom fail, although 
not always admissible of proof. 

"If Russel had been a man past middle age, 
of florid complexion, short neck, plethoric or of 
intemperate habits, I myself would have diag- 
nosticated his case as apoplexy. 

"As it is, I believe before God that he died an 
unnatural death; but how he was killed, as 



ON THE TRA.il. 237 

he was killed without doubt, I can't explain. 
Yet on this diagnosis I will stake my reputation 
as a physician, and with the assistance of Col. 
Montague I hope in time to be able to solve the 
mystery. If it is not beyond human ken, he, of all 
the men I have known, is the one most likely to 
master the secret. I will tell you this in strict 
confidence, Parson, you must never say a word 
about it, not even to Montague himself shovild you 
ever have the pleasure to meet him." 

The aged minister was silent for several min- 
utes after the doctor had ceased to speak, as 
though dazed with conflicting emotions ; then 
in a trembling voice, he said: "Doctor, I shall 
never abuse your confidence ; but your words 
have moved me with painful thoughts. What a 
wicked world this is, yet the sun has shone fair 
over our heads this beautiful autumn day, the 
birds have sung sw^eetly, and all nature has 
seemed peaceful. It is hard to realize that man, 
the lord and master of this beautiful scene and 
all it contains, can be so desperately wicked, so 
cruel to his brother man." 

As the good man ceased to speak, his horse, 
apparently without guidance, turned aside and 
stopped before the gateway to the parsonage, a 
quaint cottage enclosed in a bower of shrubbery 
at the outskirts of the village. 

The two old friends descended from the buggy 
and took their seats on the cottage porch as the 



238 ON THE TRAIL. 

level rays of the setting sun shone on the faces 
of the returning huntsmen, riding down the vil- 
lage street. The world had turned half around 
since the chase had begun and the shades of 
night were closing on the pleasant day. 

In the earlier part of the chase at Coverdale, 
Col. Montague who had fallen to the rear, much 
to the surprise of his fellow sportsman, managed 
so that in riding to the front again he should 
overhaul Lawyer Wingfield, who was also lag- 
ging in the rear. 

After he had caught up with him, Montague 
seemed to be in no haste to go to the front, but 
was unusually communicative. In the course of 
conversation Wingfield mentioned casually: "I 
was late in getting down to the 'meet, 'by reason 
of being detained at the inquest held over the 
remains of Martin Russel." 

This gave Montague the opportunity he sought 
to hear Wingfield' s version of that sad affair. 

He said: "Russel had called at my office by ap- 
pointment made ten days before, to attend to 
some legal business ; but unfortunately I was de- 
tained in Philadelphia on that day and did not 
reach my residence in the city until after night- 
fall, several hours after the dead body of Russel 
had been found reclining in my office chair, cold 
in death." 

"Who first discovered chat he was dead?" 
queried JVlontague. 



ON THE TRAIL. 239 

"The janitor, who came to sweep the office at 
six o'clock in the evening." 

' 'At what time were you to have met him at 
your office?" 

"At two o'clock p. m." 

"When did you first see his dead body?" 

"At ten o'clock that night at the coroner's 
morgue." 

"Were there any marks of violence on his per- 
son, or any expression of pain in his counte- 
nance?" 

"None whatever ; not in the least; he seemed 
to have nothing the matter with him except that 
he was dead I" 

"Did the coroner ask you to state your busi- 
ness with Russel that was to have been transac- 
ted at your office at that appointment?" 

"Yes, fortunately for me, I have a good alibi. 
I was in Philadelphia — or some mean suspicious 
person might think that I had something to do 
with his death." 

"You have not answered my question." 

"I think I have, Colonel, yet I am not aware 
that I am under obligations to do so." 

"None, except mere courtesy, of course. You 
know that Russel was my intimate friend, audit 
is but natural that I should inquire about his 
death." 

"What more do you wish to know about 
it?" 



240 ON THE TEAIL. 

"I attempted to ask what business took Rus- 
sel to your office on the day of his death?" 

"Well, if you wish to know, it was to divide 
a legacy that was bequeathed us by our uncle^ 
Jethro Scales, of Hartford, Conn. 

"You know — or perhaps j-ou don't know — 
that Eussel and myself were first cousins — it's a 
fact, however. 

"Well, now, if you are so very particular 
about it, this legacy consisted of thirty-nine 
thousand dollars in bonds and cash paper, to be 
equally divided between us. 

"Nobody was so much interested in his living 
as myself," he continued, "for Russel had the 
custody of the bonds and money, and now that 
he is dead, I don't know where they are." 

Col. Montague, who was unaccustomed to being 
addressed in the tone and manner in which 
Wingfield spoke to him, felt all the embarrass- 
ment of the situation. But as the fox "broke 
cover" about this time, as we have seen, he 
gave vent to his feelings by spurring to the 
front. 

He had food for reflection, and on that even- 
ing at sunset as he rode with the fox-hunters 
into the village street, he pulled up his horse in 
front of Parson Dil worth's to have a word with 
Dr. Hooper, in regard to the mystery of the mur- 
der which now filled all his thoughts. 

The old minister was delighted to take Col. 



ON THE TRAIL. 241 

Montague by the hand ; he was quite enthusias- 
tic in his expressions, as he recalled the excit- 
ing episodes of the chase, of which he and the 
doctor had been eye witnesses. 

Montague replied: "Oh, sir, these young men 
are not quite so sturdy as the doctor and my- 
self, who learned rough riding in the cavalry. A 
little brush like that of to-day don't amount 
to much, does it, Doctor?" 

But not awaiting the reply of the old surgeon, 
he motioned him aside, and after an earnest con- 
sultation they again approached the preacher, 
and informed him that they would be compelled 
to return to the city that night. But in the 
meantime, they said, they desired to talk over a 
matter of great secrecy and also of serious im- 
port, in which they would be pleased to have 
his advice and counsel. 

Thereupon the minister showed them into his 
study, but as it was near his supper hour he for- 
bade any business until after they had partaken 
of refreshments. 

The minister's good wife noticed that her 
guests were much preoccupied throughout the 
meal, despite their polite efforts at sociability. 

After supper the parson led them to his li- 
brary, where Montague presented the doctor 
with a small package which was wrapped in oil- 
paper, and tied with red tape, such as was for- 
merly used by lawyers in tjing legal papers. 



242 ON THE TRAIL. 

The doctor began to open the bundle very de- 
liberately, and while so engaged he stated to 
the preacher with all seriousness that he and 
Montague were both of the opinion that Lawyer 
Wingfield was implicated in some strange way 
in the murder of Martin Russel. Neither of them 
doubted that a murder had been committed, and 
Wingfield, they said, was the only man in the 
world who would be benefited by his death. 

By this time the doctor had unwrapped the 
parcel, that had been folded and tied with such 
extreme care. After all, the package contained 
only an old new^spaper ; but this the doctor held 
up before the preacher's face and said: "This 
paper may carry the seeds of life and death ; it 
certainly contains more information than was 
ever printed on it. 

"Montague got this copy of 21ie Sunday Beg- 
ister on the hunting field, from young Vernon, 
who is his assistant. Vernon is pretty sure he 
saw Wingfield drop the paper, while riding in 
the chase, and from the very careful manner in 
which it was tied up he concluded at once that 
it was a document of great importance, and im- 
mediately presented it to his chief." 

Whilst he w^as talking, the doctor had opened 
the paper and was scanning its columns with a 
curious eye. 

"Montague informs me, this paper contains 
'marks' or 'hieroglj^phics,' — that must cer- 



ON THE TRAIL. 243 

tainly mean something — where are they, Monta- 
gue, I don't see them?" 

Col. Montague pointed out a marked column 
that seemed to contain only the notice of a land 
sale ; but in the adjoining column there were a 
number of blue dots, a single one over a word. 
These dots were triangular in shape, and had 
been made most carefully with the point of a 
blue pencil, specially prepared for the purpose. 

"They must mean something," he continued, 
"for they cost care and trouble to make; so 
much, that no one would have done this with- 
out design." 

Thereupon, they all pondered over this column 
for more than an hour ; but the result was dis- 
couraging in the extreme. The doctor had set 
down on a slip of paper all the words over 
which a blue dot had been placed ; but they 
would make no sense, arrange them as he would. 
Finally, the parson suggested that he should 
set dowm the letters only, over which the blue 
dots had been placed. This he did and the re- 
sult was as f ollow^s : 

"iwillbeonhandonthetenthforrusselandifyouh- 
avelef tathousanddollarsf ormeinthedrawerthe jo- 
bwillbedonebutifathousanddollarsisnotinthedra- 
wernothingwillbedonegypdyce." 

This at first view was all Greek to them, but 
after much perplexity, they straightened out 
the syllables to read as follows : 



244 ON THE TRAIL. 

"I will be on hand on the tenth for Russel, 
and if you have left a thousand dollars for me 
in the drawer, the job will be done. But if a 
thousand dollars is not in the drawer, nothing 
will be done ! 

"Gyp Dyce." 

Now, the doctor and Montague both knew of 
"Gyp Dyce" who was a gypsy doctor, and had 
frequently been through that part of the coun - 
try with gypsy bands. He had the reputation 
of being an educated man and was really a 
skillful surgeon. 

This dark mysterious crime was now made 
clear to them in a measure, by this communica- 
tion in cipher. They knew almost beyond a 
doubt that Martin Russel had been foully mur- 
dered, and they believed that Lawyer Wingfield 
had employed this desperate vagabond to assas- 
sinate him, in order that he, Wingfield, might 
become the only surviving heir to the legacy of 
thirty-nine thousand dollars, that had been be- 
queathed them jointly by their uncle Jethro 
Scales. 

Here was a motive indeed, and Wingfield was 
known to them as an unscrupulous man, espec- 
ially bold in planning for others to execute. 
Whilst this was their confident belief, it was by 
no means clear to them that they could prove 
that a murder had been really committed ; cer- 
tainly, it was not in their power at present to 



ON THE TRAIL. 245 

show the manner in which the cruel deed had 
been done. 

Tliere was an impenetrable mystery about 
this ; it would require an additional autopsy, if 
it could be shown at all. 

Hence, Col. Montague remarked that it would 
be necessary for the doctor and himself to re- 
turn to the city on that night. 

They felt that they had before them a task 
that would tax to the utmost the powers of the 
most skillful of detectives. The men they had 
to deal with were no ordinary criminals ; and to 
fathom the depth of their plots would require 
the exercise of an intelligence equal in subtlety 
to the mind that had planned the inexplicable 
murder. 

The craftiness of the cipher made in the ordi- 
nary columns of a newspaper and in euch a man- 
ner as would pass unnoticed, save to the closest 
scrutiny, was but characteristic of the dark 
mind that had plotted this incomprehensible deed. 

The old surgeon. Dr. Hooper, with all his 
long and varied experience, was nonplussed. 

"How is it possible," he asked, "to kill a 
man so as to leave no marks of violence upon 
his person ; no poison in his stomach ; no expres- 
sion of pain on his countenance — to produce an 
instantaneous and painless death, as if from the 
visitation of Providence?" 

Yet this had been done in the case of Martin 



246 ON THE TRAIL. 

Russel ! They felt assured that they knew, 
from the vague cipher, whom it was that had 
perpetrated the foul deed ; and also, they knew 
who had instigated the crime. 

"How were they now to fasten the guilt upon 
them?" the old surgeon asked. 

"It is first necessary," he said, "for us to 
discover how the crime had been committed, and 
the implement or the means employed, that had 
bereft Martin Russel of his life, and had left 
him as if apparently enjoying a natural and 
painless sleep." 

During all the subsequent, weary days of 
their search, the doctor and Montague were ever 
propounding to themselves the single query: 
"How, and by what means did Gyp Dyce kill 
Martin Russel?" 

II. 

When a man dies in the vigor of manhood 
from some explainable cause, dragged down to 
his grave, it may be, by the burden of disease, 
or else cut off by calamitous accident, his death 
entails upon his relatives only that natural grief 
and mourning that come to all humanity, soon 
or late. But if he shall die as did Martin Rus- 
sel — "the picture of health and strength" — a 
sudden, mysterious, unexplainable death — to the 
natural grief of his taking off, there is added an 
element of harrowing suspicion that tortures his 



ON THE TRAIL. 247 

stricken relatives and friends with a disquietude 
that only the revelation of the mystery can allay. 

It was such feeling that had prompted Col. 
Montague, a lawyer, to play the part of a detec- 
tive for a time, in his endeavor to unfold the 
dark mystery that surrounded the death of his 
friend. 

The old surgeon, Dr. Hooper, who had served 
at the coroner's inquest, while consenting that 
the jury should return as their verdict: "Death 
from some unknown cause," yet firmly be- 
lieved that Russel had been murdered, although 
his remains had borne no tangible evidence of a 
violent death. 

The doctor had not consented to this verdict 
through any desire to conceal crime, but rather, 
to facilitate its discovery. Russel was his friend 
also, and he never for a moment thought to re- 
linquish the search until the murderer had been 
discovered. 

As a man of science he was also deeply inter- 
ested in discovering the manner of the murder. 

The younger surgeons at the inquest believed, 
as already stated, that the death of Russel was 
most probably the result of apoplexy ; 3^et be- 
cause of the doubtful nature of the case they 
also agreed to the above verdict. 

Martin Russel, a native of Coverdale, had 
come to Wheeling when a mere lad, and had 
found, as good fortune directed, a position as 



248 ON THE TRAIL. 

office boy in the office of Richard Montague. 
From him, he had won such favors, as the years 
had passed, that by his generous aid he had been 
enabled to attend the public schools where he 
had received a practical, useful education, and 
was in the meantime guided by his friend in the 
study of the law; so that on becoming of age, 
he was admitted to practice in the city courts. 

Step by step he had risen from obscurity to 
the honorable position of City Attorney. But 
the Civil War intervening, both he and his 
friend, Montague, had lain down their "briefs" 
and taken up the sword. 

In the course of this war Col. Montague had 
won such great renown as had completely 
eclipsed and overshadowed the honorable record 
of all his previous endeavors. Martin Russel, 
too, had won fame as a captain while serving in 
Col. Montague's regiment. 

Thus the friendship of these men became 
cemented. They had endured together the toils 
and sufferings of the soldier's life, and they re- 
spected each other for the dangers they had 
passed in common. 

We have seen the conspicuous part that Col. 
Montague bore in the chase of the Redwood 
hounds at Coverdale ; but his chief object in be- 
ing present on that occasion was to follow a 
trail other than that of the fox — one in fact, 
which he. was to follow for months. 



ON THE TRAIL. 249 

He was, however, a zealous lover of the chase, 
and on that occasion his eager spirit had been 
moved by the opportune incidents narrated; so 
that for the time, forgetting his errand there, 
he gave himself up entirely to the joyous excite- 
ment of the moment — and rode to the front on 
that field of rural sport as he had ridden on 
other fields, where the bugle's call, and not the 
hunter's horn, had rallied the horsemen. 
***** 

In the coroner's morgue in the city a bright 
light shone during all the silent watches of the 
night after the chase at Coverdale. 

Here, Dr. Hooper, assisted by a surgeon, an 
expert in brain diseases, was holding a second 
autopsy in making a critical examination of the 
skull and brain of Martin Russel; for the elder 
surgeon insisted that the injury that had caused 
his death, if any existed, would be found some- 
where "in the organism of the nerve tissues of 
the brain." 

Patiently and silently they labored, while Col. 
Montague, seated nearby, was a spectator to the 
ghastly scene. 

It was two o'clock in the morning when Dr. 
Hooper with an exclamation of surprise called 
the younger surgeon to his side. Together they 
used the microscope freely, and after a long dis- 
cussion, the old physician extracted some minute 
particle from the mass of the brain before him. 



260 ON THE TRAIL. 

and then turning to Montague, said: "We have 
found it!" 

The colonel arose and walked to his side and 
at his request looked through the surgeon's mi- 
croscope, and saw in a magnified form an object 
which he was enabled to discern with his naked 
eye — a small steel point like that of a cambric 
needle about one-sixteenth of an inch in length. 

This had been imbedded in the brain of the 
victim! "This foreign substance," said Dr. 
Hooper, taking it up with his tweezers, "caused 
the death of poor Russel ! 

"It has been shot into his brain by some 
powerful force," he said, "through the foramen 
magnum, destroying the medulla, the nervous 
center, and causing immediate death. See, this 
little bit of steel is newly fractured ; besides, the 
man could not have lived for two seconds after 
this had punctured the medulla. 

"The movements of respiration are performed 
partly by the diaphragm and partly by the inter- 
costal muscles and are differently modified by 
injuries of the nervous sj^stem according to the 
spot at which the injury is inflicted. If in this 
instance the spinal chord had been divided or 
much com^Dressed in the lower part of the neck, 
the intercostal muscles would necessarily have 
been paralyzed and his respiration would have 
been diaphragmatic. 

"If on the other hand the j^hrenic nerve had 



ON THE TRAIL. 251 

been divided, the diaphragm would have been 
paralyzed and his respiration would have been 
then what is termed 'thoracic' or 'costal'. 

"If the injury had been inflicted on the spinal 
chord alone, just above the origin of the second 
and third cervical nerves, both the phrenic and 
intercostal nerves would have been para- 
lyzed and death would necessarily have taken 
place from suffocation. But in these cases the 
attempt at respiration would have been mani- 
fested by the distended mouth and nostrils of 
the subject, which was not the case. 

"It is a matter of some comfort to us to know 
that he died a painless death. For this steel point 
which must have been at the extremity of a 
curved needle, eight or nine inches long, was 
driven so forcibly through the foramen magnum 
that it punctured the medulla oblongata. 

"Here the reflex actions, which I have just 
mentioned, all take place; hence both the power 
and the desire to breathe were at once taken 
away. He made no attempt at inspiration; 
there was no struggle and no appearance of suf- 
fering. The man died simply by a want of 
aeration of the blood which led to the arrest of 
his circulation. His death was instantaneous with 
the blow." 

Col. Montague inferred from all this without 
following very closely the doctor's technical dis- 
quisition, that his poor friend, Martin Russel, 



252 ON THE TRAIL. 

had been foully dealt with by some unknown 
person, who had been concealed in Wingfield's 
office with the design of putting him out of the 
way. 

He remembered the stress Lawyer Wingfield 
had placed on the circumstance that "he could 
prove an alibi," and also with what precision he 
had made known his absence from his office at 
the very time he was in honor bound to have 
been present to have kept his engagement with 
Russel. 

He believed these facts justified him in enter- 
taining the opinion that Wingfield, himself, had 
planned the murder, though it was not his hand 
that dealt the cowardly blow which had driven 
the stiletto to the "vital point," the center of 
the nerve origin, stopping at one fell blow all 
the functions of the living body ! 

The assassin who directed this blow must have 
possessed an intimate knowledge of human 
anatomy, and more than that, the hand that had 
guided the strange weapon must have been the 
steady, trained hand of a most skilful surgeon ! 

Col. Montague and Dr. Hooper were unremit- 
ting in their efforts to ferret out the mystery of 
the murder. The "cipher letter" in the news- 
paper was convincing to their minds that Wing- 
field had been the instigator and evil plotter of 
the deed. And though they now had positive 
proof that a murder had been wrought, yet they 



ON THE TRAIL. 253 

felt it would be next to impossible to fix the 
guilt on him through the vague uncertain com- 
munication of the cipher which had caused them 
such trouble to unravel. Even if they had made 
no mistake in their interpretation of it, this 
secret communication nowhere bore the name of 
"Wingfield." 

Young Vernon, who had picked up the paper 
in the hunting-field, said: "He felt sure that he 
had seen Wingfield drop it, but as there were 
other horsemen near that spot at the time, it was 
not impossible for him to be mistaken." 

It is true they could prove that he had died 
in Wingfield's office ; that he had been killed by 
an anatomist thoroughly familiar with his human 
subject; they could show the point of the 
needle that had punctured the medulla oblon- 
gata of the victim and caused his instant death 

If they could have procured the arrest of Gyp 
Dyce, the gypsy doctor who had devised the 
cipher and whose hand, no doubt, had directed 
the instrument of death — they then might have 
been able to implicate Wingfield with the 
crime. 

But Gyp Dyce had disappeared as mysteriously 
as he had come, and the only evidence that he 
had ever held any communication with Wingfield 
was the unreliable, indefinite, "cipher letter." 
Even this would be denied successfully, unless 
they could show beyond all controversy that the 



254 ON THE TRAIL. 

''cipher" had really been in the possession of 
Wingfield. 

Col. Montague had employed detectives to 
search the gypsy bands far and near, all in vain ; 
for Gyp Dyce was never seen again in Wheeling. 

Could they only discover the implement or 
means by which the murder had been done ! — 
and where was the "drawer" in which Wing- 
field was to have placed — and no doubt did 
place — as the "job" was "done*' — the "thous- 
and-dollars?" 

A search of the law-office of Wingfield might 
produce some clew to the mystery, but how was 
this to be brought about? It would not do for 
them to bring a charge of murder against him, 
until they could substantiate it. 

But time, which ends all things, also put a per- 
iod to this mystery; but all too late to encompass 
the ends of justice. 

It was about three j^ears after the death of 
Martin Russel that old Lawyer Wingfield was 
stricken with pneumonia, complicated with fever, 
and died within two weeks. 

Then Dr. Hooper and Col. Montague began to 
think that the mystery, on the trail of which 
they had been plodding with unflagging zeal, 
would never be revealed. But they did not de- 
spair entirely, for Montague had obtained per- 
mission from th^ administrators of Wingfield' s 
estate, to search among the books and papers in 



ON THE TRAIL. 255 

his office. He had hopes of finding there some 
clue that would lead to the unravelment of the 
mystery. 

For many days he had searched in that dingy 
office, over dusty shalves and drawers, and ex- 
amined bundles of musty law papers, without 
avail. 

There came a time when he w^as w^earied with 
his labors, and had seated himself beside an an- 
tique table, and was thrumming idly thereon. 
His attention was soon attracted to the peculiar 
sound made, as if the table contained a drawer 
— for on tapping on a table with a drawer, the 
confined air within makes a sound entirely dif- 
ferent from that made under similar conditions, 
when one taps on a table without a drawer. 

Now, the only remarkable thing about this was, 
this table contained no drawer apparently, al- 
though the "sound" proclaimed that it did. 

He took a searching look about it, and pulled 
at the sides all around, yet found do drawer. 
Then it occurred to him that he would better 
look under the table anyhow ; this he did by 
stooping down and peering beneath, as it was 
very low; when, sure enough, there was a 
drawer ! 

Sound, in this instance, had been truer than 
sight. The question now was, how he should 
find an opening to the drawer ; he spent a full 
half hour in fruitless efforts to do so, pulling at the 



256 ON THE TRAIL. 

sides and lifting at the top, until he was almost 
tempted to take a hatchet and split it open. 

But on looking more closely at the inner sides 
of the legs, up near the lid, he discovered on one 
of them a spot about the size of a thumb-print, 
which appeared of somewhat lighter color than 
the paint and also somewhat raised. 

On this spot he pressed and found it was a 
spring that moved ; this he compressed and at 
the same time tried to tilt the top by taking 
hold of the sides, without effect. Then still com- 
pressing the spring, he tried to lift the corners 
and at the third corner the top tilted and the 
drawer was opened easily; the top was hinged ta 
the opposite diagonal corner. 

Within the drawer there was nothing except 
an implement,somewhat like a large metal match 
sa^'Cjyet it was easy to be seen it was not a match 
box ; for on its sides there was a small wheel and 
rachet, on the former a diminutive handle to 
turn, with the evident design of compressing a 
spring. 

Whilst Montague was examining this curious 
instrument, he noticed Dr. Hooper, who at that 
moment was passing the office ; he hailed him 
and invited him to enter. 

The old surgeon came in, thumping his heavy 
cane on the floor, all the while glancing around 
from beneath his shaggy brows, as if in search of 
something lost. 



ON THE TRAIL. 257 

"Doctor, I want to show you a curious piece 
of furniture," Montague said, as he walked to 
the antique table. "You see this table has no 
drawer," turning it around. "Now, look, you 
see it has a drawer!" as he pressed the spring 
and tilted the top. 

"Well! Well!" exclaimed the physician, "if 
that isn't a rascally piece of furniture — did you 
find anything in it?" 

"Yes, this implement; I don't know what 
it is — you will have to explain it," said Mon- 
tague. 

The doctor took it in his hand, turned it over 
carefully, then said: "I think it must certainly be 
some kind of lancet, and it is already set ; now 
look out ! I've found the spring, and will let it 
off ," then he pressed a little button, and out 
flew with great force — a thin curved wire-like 
lancet, with the point broken oflP. 

The old surgeon gazed on it aghast and silent ; 
then, when he could recover himself, he said 
sternly: "This is the accursed implement that 
killed Martin Russel!" 

Montague, on examining it was satisfied of 
that too : but the doctor to make assurance 
doubly sure, hobbled down to his office and soon 
returned with the bit of steel which he had ex- 
tracted from the brain of Russel and found that 
it exactly fitted the point of this stiletto ! 

Old Doctor Hooper was greatly excited by the 



258 ON THE TRAIL. 

discovery; he set the "lancet," as he called it, 
many times and "shot it olf." 

"This accursed instrument," he said, "was 
made in the old world, perhaps in the dark ages ; 
no man in this new country would ever devise 
such a weapon to slay his enemy with ; this dev- 
il's-dagger came from a land rife with tyranny, 
cruel oppression, torture and secret murder ! 

"But this murder of Russel is the most scien- 
tific assassination that has ever been perpetrated 
in this country !" he continued; "no man, except 
a thorough anatomist, one with iron nerves as 
well as the technical knowledge, could have di- 
rected the fatal blow to 'the vital knot.' 

"The victim's life was snuffed out as a can- 
dle: as surely, as painlessly, and as noiselessly; 
there is no parallel to this murder in all the an- 
nals of crime ! 

"We uhould gain great applause to ourselves 
by making plain to the world the dark and sub- 
tle ways of the learned murderers. But as \Ying- 
field, the arch assassin is dead, we must not 
reveal our discovery to anyone, for the sake of 
his innocent wife and children. We must 
search the world over for Gyp Dyce, and if we 
shall find him, then we shall make all known in 
order to encompass the ends of justice." 

Several years passed away and Dr. Hooper and 
Col. Montague continued on the trail of the 
"gypsy-doctor" until it led to a lone camp in 



ON THE TRAIL. 259 

the far west, where that accomplished villain 
had yielded up his own life to the stiletto ; yet 
in a much less skillful way than that by which 
he had taken the life of Martin Russel ; for he 
was stabbed to death, with many wounds, by 
his wdld associates in a drunken brawl. 

After they had learned this, Montague and 
Dr. Hooper ceased their labors. 

However, they continued to observe the strict 
silence which they ever maintained in regard to 
their discovery; for they would bring no dis- 
tress of mind to the innocent relatives of Wing- 
field through any effort to vaunt their own skill, 
as show^n in the unravelment of the intricacies 
of the mysterious murder. 

It was only through the writings of Dr. Hooper 
published many years after his death, that the 
details of the murder of Martin Russel became 
known to the medical profession. 



TRELAWNEY, 

OR THE MYSTERIES OF THE TAGGART HOUSE. 
I. 

Opposite the town of Clonmel, now in West 
Virginia, and on the bank of a rugged moun- 
tain stream, stood an ancient time-stained house 
which, in its day, had been the most pretentious 
residence in all that country side. A tall por- 
tico extending the whole length of the main 
building and supported by six massive Doric 
columns, gave rather an official aspect to the 
mansion. This house was marked by another 
feature more common to public than to private 
residences; an antique cupola in which hungan 
equally antique bell, surmounted the building. 
The bell had been silent for many years, but the 
times were in the prosperous days of old, when 
morning, noon and night its silvery notes had 
rung out afar, across hill and dale. 

This house was for many generations the home 
of the Taggart family, and was surrounded b}^ a 
plantation of a thousand acres of fine arable 
land. The men of this family had been noted 
for their great energy and enterprise, and had 
pretty much dominated affairs in this part of 
260 



TRELAWNEY. 261 

the country. But the last of the race had passed 
away and the estate had fallen into the hands 
of a collateral branch which did not occupy it; 
but had leased it, together with the mansion, for 
many years previous to the happening of the re- 
markable events here recorded. 

Even in the time of the Taggart family there 
were uncanny stories, told by the negroes of the 
plantation, of ghostly sights and sounds, seen 
and heard within the gloomy recesses of the old 
manor house; but at that time, these stories 
were attributed to African superstition, and 
made but little or no impression upon the more 
intelligent white citizens of the community. 

It is necessary to go back to a period several 
years anterior to the opening of this story, and 
to recount briefly the dreadful occurrences of 
that time, which incidentally as it were, never- 
theless cast an indelible glamour of horror upon 
this ancient house. 

Towards the close of a beautiful October day, 
in the year of grace 1826, two horsemen might 
have been seen riding along the road in the di- 
rection of the town of C. and at a distance of 
about three miles from that place. These travel- 
ers were men somewhat past middle age ; and he 
who rode in front would have arrested attention 
even within a crowded city, much more upon a 
lonely, country road. 

He was apparently about sixty years of age, 



262 TRELAWNEY. 

but still vigorous,tall and elegantly formed ; his 
complexion was very dark, as if from exposure 
to a tropical sun; his eyes were piercing, black, 
roving and fierce of expression : his nose was ac- 
quiline; his face long and oval; his locks, which 
fell upon his shoulders, were streaked with grey 
as were his moustache and the thinner beard 
upon his bronzed cheeks. He sat his horse with 
ease and grace which is acquired only from long 
practice in the saddle ; yet there was a military 
stiffness and dignity of bearing about the 
man which he seemed to be unable to shake olf, 
or, perhaps it was that air of authority which 
attaches to those who have been long accustomed 
to command. 

The horse of this rider was as remarkable in 
appearance as himself ; he w^as a powerful ani- 
mal, with a clean, high head, pointed ears, thin 
mane and tale, and of a curious tawny color, 
marked upon the sides and flanks with stripes, 
in less degree but somewhat resembling those of 
a tiger. 

The other traveler was a man of medium height 
compactly built; of sand}^ complexion, red hair 
and beard ; goggled eyed ; and there was nothing 
about him to attract attention except his foreign 
dress, and the very fine animal he rode. The 
horses of these travelers were evidently of a 
strain then uncommon in this part of the world, 
and showed at every point their Arab origin. 



TRELAWNEY. 263 

It was about nightfall when the elder man, 
who rode in front, turned to his companion and 
said: "Symonds, the day is far spent and 
Saracan is leg weary ; we shall stop at the first 
shelter." 

"If it please you, sir" replied the one 
addressed,- as he raised his hand to his hat in 
military salute, and then relapsed into silence. 

But a short time thereafter a turn in the road 
brought into full view of the travelers a habita- 
tion which appeared to be some kind of a fortifi- 
cation or fort, as the square of rude cabins was 
surrounded by a strong, high picket fence except 
immediately in front, where the pickets had been 
removed and replaced by a rail fence about five 
feet high. As they came nearly opposite to this 
fort the elder traveler. without a word, reined up 
his horse and turned off the road at a trot : he 
rode directly at the fence, which his horse 
cleared as lightly as the swallow skims the wave. 
Now Peter Luttrell,the master of the house, who 
was standing in his doorway at the time, was 
filled with admiration at this feat of horseman- 
ship. 

The stranger stated briefly his needs and 
craved hospitality for the night ; he spoke with 
a full pleasant voice, but with a foreign accent 
and a slightly lisping speech. "He was James 
Trelawney, and his companion, John Symonds ; 
they were from foreign parts, strangers, travel- 



264 TRELAWNEY. 

ing through the country." Further than this he 
made no statement concerning himself. 

''If you can put up with our humble fare, I 
shall be pleased to accommodate you," replied 
Luttrell heartily, and with old Virginia courtesy 
hastened to assist the stranger to dismount. 

By this time Symonds who had ridden around 
to the gate approached and he and Luttrell took 
the horses to the stable at some distance from the 
dwelling. 

Trelawney walked into the house as directed; 
saluted the woman there with grave courtesy ; 
took the chair which she had placed for him, and 
sat in silence. But he was not unobserved, and 
from what occurred afterwards all these unim- 
portant details were matters of absorbing inter- 
est, as related to the neighbors by Mrs. Luttrell 
who described in detail the dress and manner of 
Trelawney. 

"Has not this house been used as a fort of 
some kind?" asked Trelawney, as they sat at 
the supper table, noticing the small portholes 
in the logs. 

"Yes"' replied Luttrell, "we had a good deal 
of trouble with the Indians here a little over 
thirty years ago ; and this is one of the log forts 
in which our neighbors used to collect when 
they were making a raid in this section. How- 
ever, we have had no fight with them since the 
great treaty, in the year ninety-five, when the 



TRELAWNEY. 265 

Redskins promised to keep the peace, " 'as long 
as the sun sliall set in the west;' and I 
reckon, sir, they are gwine to do it," he con- 
cluded. 

"There ought to be plenty of game in this 
country," remarked Trelawney, "as it seems to 
be pretty much all woods." 

"Yes indeed, sir," said his host, "this is a 
great game country ; it was the big hunting 
ground of the Indians ; they never lived here, 
only came here to hunt, and that's what made 
them fight like the devil before they would give 
it up." 

"You cannot blame them much," said the 
stranger. 

"Oh no, "replied Luttrell,"! don't blame them, 
but I used to shoot at them when I was a boy. 
I got that mark on my cheek thar when I was 
fighting the red devils at the fort over on the 
creek." 

Mrs. Luttrell noticed that Trelawny gave a 
quick glance at the scar on her husband's cheek 
and from this time forth that he treated him 
with deference which pleased her greatly, as 
coming from a man of such distinguished pres- 
ence, and so different from any she had ever 
seen. She longed too to inquire how he had re- 
ceived one or two scars that marked his own 
bronzed face, but did not care to do so. 

After the frugal repast was ended, the trav- 



266 TRELAWNEY. 

elers sat around the huge wood fire and smoked 
their pipes while Luttrell recounted to them 
various anecdotes of his hunting adventures in 

the surrounding mountains. 

At length Trelawney expressed a desire to 
stop over on the morrow for the purpose of tak- 
ing a deer hunt. Luttrell eagerly encouraged 
him to carry out this design, as the grave 
stranger had won much upon his favor. He 
promised to have guns and everything in readi- 
ness at daylight, as the travelers had expressed 
a desire to return to the house in time to pro- 
ceed to the town on the following evening. 

With this understanding the strangers were 
shown to their place of rest, which was in an 
out-building standing at some distance from the 
main house, and in the direction of the stables. 
Here they found a small cabin containing two 
beds ; and while all things within were rude and 
humble, they were at least comfortable, and the 
travelers expressed themselves well contented 
with their quarters. 

May they rest well ! as this may be the last 
night on earth in which they shall repose in 
untroubled sleep ; for the heavy hand of misfor- 
tune is hanging over them, as the sword hung 
over Damocles, ready to fall and destroy. 

As we shall see, the acts and words of these 
strangers while they remained at the house of 
Luttrell, were afterwards subjects of the deepest 



TRELAWNEY. 267 

interest to the people of this vicinity, and even 
called forth the closest scrutiny the law could 
command. We shall now leave them to their 
rest, and turn to the events of this night at a 
point not far distant; and to that terrible trag- 
edy which filled this peaceful country side with 
horror, and enveloped these strangers within its 
baneful shadow. 

II. 

It. was ten o'clock and the night was dark and 
lowering although the gibbous moon hung high 
in the heavens, and at rare intervals cast a 
gleam of light to earth between the scurrying 
clouds. At a point on the road called "The 
Narrows," about half way between Luttrell's 
and the town, and which is about a mile 
from either place, there is a gloomy and narrow 
passage between the hill and the creek, of som.e 
fifty yards in length. A stranger traveling this 
road after nightfall would hesitate to pass 
through such a dark and forbidding way ; yet 
there were those, it seems, who had sought this 
place in w^hich to tarry for good or ill ; for by 
the uncertain light of the moon, the dim out- 
lines of dark figures were to be seen upon horses 
about midway of this passage, where a small 
stream trickled doAvn from the hill. 

There they sat, silent and motionless, facing 
the road. After a time the moon shone out; 



268 TRELAWNEY. 

although dimly, it was reflected from the barrel 
of the long pistol which each figure held in his 
right hand, and rested on the mane of his horse. 

Fifteen minutes passed, and no sound from 
man or beast ; only the hooting of an owl on 
the hillside had broken the stillness. And so 
the half hour passed, and the hour, and still no 
change or movement. 

Will these figures never move or make a sound, 
or are they only a figment of the imagination? 

For what purpose would armed men station 
themselves on this deserted road at the dead 
hour of the night, where none do pass? 

But even now, in the far distance is heard 
the faint sound on the stony road, of a horse's 
hoofs ; nearer it comes, and louder the sound; 
evidently, it is some traveler riding at a round 
trot towards the town. 

As the ringing hoofs resound at the entrance 
to the narrow way, one of the waiting figures, he 
on the right, comes to life as it were; turns his 
head as if upon a pivot, and nods to the figure 
on his left, who nods in return. 

Then their long pistols are raised and extended 
over the horses' heads, pointing across the road. 

On comes the traveler without slacking his 
pace, until a stern "Halt!" causes him involun- 
tarily to pull up his horse and turn his face in 
wild alarm toward the rock, whence the sound 
seems to come ; but only for a second was the 



TRELAWNEY. 269 

suspense, when two pistol shots rang out on the 
night air, and the fated rider plunged headlong 
from his horse to the ground ; then rolled over 
and lay upon his back with his face turned up 
to the dim light of the moon, while the blood 
flowed rapidly from a ghastly wound in his head. 

The work of the assassins has been well done ; 
this traveler, whoever he be, has finished his 
journey ! 

But, perhaps the robbers did not premeditate 
murder, for as the shots were fired, a gruff voice 
called out — "Job, what made you shoot?" 

"What made you shoot?" was the reply; 
"well, he'd a knowed us anyhow; he'll not talk 
now," the voice continued. 

The highwaymen then made a fruitless at- 
tempt to catch the riderless horse which ran 
past them, down the road, in the direction of 
the town ; but they themselves, after they had 
robbed the dead man of money and papers, de- 
parted in the opposite direction. 

The sun was an hour high on the following 
morning when a countryman dashed into the 
town of C. with the startling intelligence that 
Richard Hinton, ex-sherifi^ of the county, had 
been foully murdered and that his body lay in 
the "narrows of the road on the creek!" 

It was not long before the whole male popula- 
tion of the town had gathered about the 
spot where the tragedy had occurred. 



270 TRELAWXEY. 

Hinton was a maa past middle age, and as his 
children were all grown, there was none present 
to mourn his sad taking off with that violent 
outburst of grief with which the young bewail 
sudden death. Yet the whole community was 
deeply moved , as no murder had occurred in 
this quiet neighborhood within a generation. 
Hinton was known personally to every one in 
this part of the country; an ex-sheriff and a 
trusted man; he was just on his return from 
Richmond with land warrants and considerable 
sums of money belonging to citizens of the 
town. 

As his pockets were turned wrong side out 
and there was not left on his person any article 
of value, not even his old silver watch, it was 
the consensus of the assembled wisdom that he 
had been murdered for the purpose of robbery. 

After the remains had been removed with all 
tenderness and rude ceremony to the town, and 
the excitement had somewhat subsided, those 
who had met pecuniary loss by the tragedy be- 
gan to feel a lively interest in discovering the 
perpetrators of the murder. 

The sheriff's posse comitatas soon discovered 
the place where the robbers sat on their 
horses and from which they had shot their vic- 
tim. Step by step they trailed the horse tracks 
up the road until they led into the stable at Lut- 
trell's. 



TRELAWNEY. 271 

Here, the party were greatly surprised to find 
two liorses, tlie finest they had ever seen ! and 
wonder of wonders ! there were on each saddle, 
holster pistols, and the right-hand pistol of each 
holster had been recently discharged while the 
pistols in the left holsters were still loaded ! 
And more than that, a land warrant belonging 
to Col. Donovan, and which Hinton was to bring 
from Richmond, was found stuffed into one of 
the holsters alongside the pistol ! 

Could any case be clearer than this ; surely 
the foul murderers had but illy concealed their 
tracks ! Where were the owners of these fine 
horses who had killed Hinton and had even 
carelessly left one of his land warrants with 
their saddles ! 

Mrs. Luttrell told the sheriff and his party 
all about the strangers, her guests, describing 
them minutel37-, and at the same time she stated 
that they would return from the hunt about 
three o'clock, when she was to have dinner pre- 
pared for them so that they could go on to the 
town that night. 

The sheriff concluded to conceal his party in a 
thicket near by and await the return of the 
strangers, when he would make the arrest. 

Col. Donovan, a bluff, hearty man of middle 
age, was one of the party, and he was the 
■only one of it who was not convinced that the 
owners of the horses were the murderers. He 



272 TRELAWNEY. 

said to some of his companions while they lay- 
in concealment : 

"Boys, this won't do; this is a put up job; 
these men would never ride back here after such 
a murder and then go off for a deer hunt — this 
is against human nature!" 

"Colonel, you may know more about the law 
than we do," was the reply, "but we can't help 
being governed and convinced too, by the evi- 
dence of our senses!" 

The hunting party returned at the time they 
had appointed and the strangers seemed elated 
at their fine success in the chase. They were 
allowed to enter the dwelling and were 
seated at the dinner table when the sheriff led 
his party, unseen, up to the side of the house near 
the door. Then he and one other entered. 

The sheriff approached rapidly and caught 
the elder stranger, Trelawney, by the collar of 
his coat, exclaiming : 

"You are my prisoner, you bloody murderer ! " 

Trelawney, without a word but with a dark 
scowl on his countenance, sprang up, and the. 
next instant the sheriff lay sprawling on the floor 
from a blow of his fist. The man who went to 
his assistance met the same fate ; but the party 
at the door rushed in and dis^ilayed their weap- 
ons and the strangers were compelled to sur- 
render. 

In fact the man Symonds, the companion of 



TRELAWNEY. 273 

Trelawney, had not attempted to move, but had 
sat as if dumbfounded, with his eyes bulged out 
as if they were about to drop from their sockets. 

After things had quieted down a little and 
all the belongings of the strangers had been col- 
lected and their horses made ready to go to the 
town, Trelawney turned and thanked Luttrell 
and his wife for their hospitality and at the 
same time took out some money to pay them. 

But the sheriff would not permit this ; he 
ordered the prisoners to be searched and every- 
thing of value taken from them, which w^as done. 

Trelawney then sternly demamded "by what 
authority he was arrested; and what kind of peo- 
ple they were, who with arms and force of 
numbers thus maltreated strangers?" 

He spoke with the foreign accent and lisping 
speech, before remarked, and it was also noticed 
by the party that he was a man well advanced 
in years. 

The sheriff who was still smarting under the 
blow he had received, replied coarsely: "You 
will find out what you are arrested for,you bloody 
murderer, when you come to swing on the gal- 
lows!" 

"Tut, tut, sheriff," said Col. Donovan, "the 
man is innocent until he is proven guilty." 

At this, Trelawney turned and bowed w^ith 
grave courtesy to Col. Donovan, but he spoke 
not again. 



274 TRELAWNEY. 

The prisoners then, after a brief examination 
Ipefore the village magistrate, were remanded to 
jail to await the action of the grand jury at the 
November term of court. But as the whole com- 
munity, with the exception of Col. Donovan, 
and one or two other lawyers, had already de- 
cided upon their guilt, some of the more hot- 
headed citizens insisted on hanging them then 
and there, and thus save the expense of a trial. 
But this rash counsel did not prevail. 

III. 

Now the ill repute of the old Taggart house 
was greatly enhanced by its connection with this 
dark tragedy, brought about in the following 
manner : For some time previous to the trial of 
Trelawney and Symonds for the murder of Hin- 
ton, a new court house was building in the town. 
The clerk's and sheriff's offices had been moved 
to this ancient mansion temporarily; and here 
it was decided to hold the November term of 
the court. 

The judge's stand was placed inside the door- 
way of one of the ancient rooms, facing the hall, 
and just leaving room enough for the jury to be 
seated to the right and left of the door, while 
the spectators must be content to occupy the hall 
aod the large portico. 

Here the trial was held which from its appall- 
ing attendant circumstances was afterwards the 



TRELAWNEY. 275 

subject of conversation about many a winter fire- 
side, where tlie youthful listeners were chilled 
with horror at the recital of the ghostly stories 
which relegated the "haunted house" to the do- 
main of spooks and wraiths and those unearthly 
apparitions that are believed to take possession 
of ancient houses, where some cruel injustice or 
grievous 'wrong has been perpetrated, and which 
needs to be righted. 

When the trial came on, Colonel Donovan was 
appointed by the court to defend the prisoners. 

As all their effects had been taken from them, 
and deposited in the bank by the sheriff for safe 
keeping, it was not known that they had funds 
of their own with which to employ counsel. 

The inhabitants of the whole country were as- 
sembled at the Taggart house on the day of trial, 
many coming two or three days' journey through 
the wilderness to witness this famous case. 

However, the trial did not continue very long, 
for it took only half a day to empanel a jury; 
and the whole case was concluded within three 
days. 

The testimony elicited by the prosecuting at- 
torney was the same as already known. It was 
proven to the satisfaction of every one that the 
murderers of ex-sheriif Hinton had ridden to 
the place of the murder on the horses owned by 
the prisoners. 

It was further proven beyond a doubt, that 



276 TRELAWNEY. 

the weapons used were the holster pistols belong- 
ing also to the prisoners. 

Two shots had been fired, and two of the hol- 
ster pistols were found to be unloaded; besides, 
a wad picked up at the scene of the murder ex- 
actly fitted the pistols, which were all of the 
same foreign pattern. Moreover, a bullet of the 
same gauge was extracted from the body of the 
dead man ; and this together with the damning 
evidence of the land warrant, found in one of 
the holsters, and known to have been upon the 
person of Hinton, brought conviction to almost 
every mind, of the guilt of the prisoners. 

The able attorney for the prosecution stated 
that in the course of his long practice, he had 
never before had a case of so much importance, 
that really proved itself and needed no argu- 
ment; and that for his part, he would be per- 
fectly willing to submit the case to the jury with- 
out a word of comment. 

Col. Donovan, for the defense, was unable to 
disprove the testimony already detailed ; he was 
compelled to admit that the prisoners' horses 
were ridden by the murderers ; and that their 
pistols had been used to commit the crime; but 
he contended that these were facts disconnected 
from the prisoners, and that some other persons, 
not they, had killed Hinton. 

He reviewed in detail the testimony of Lut- 
trell and his wife, repeating every word and 



TRELAWNEY. 277 

describing every act of the prisoners, from their 
first appearance in the neighborhood, up to the 
time of their arrest. 

But here, he was interrupted by the state's 
attorney, who stated that there was one fatal 
omission ; and that was the time which elapsed 
between nine o'clock at night — the time at 
which the strangers had retired to rest in the 
cabin, which was nearer the stable and the road 
than was Luttrell's house — and the hour of five 
o'clock in the morning, when Luttrell had awak- 
ened them for the chase. Here were eight hours 
when the strangers were unobserved by anyone, 
and no doubt this was the time within which the 
murder had been committed. Luttrell admitted 
on the witness stand that his guests might have 
taken out their horses and ridden down the 
road in the night without his knowledge. 

But the prosecutor neglected to add, that Lut- 
trell on leaving the stand had volunteered the 
statement, "he did not believe they did." 

Col. Donovan resumed: "Not one cent of 
money or one article known to have belonged to 
Hinton, was found on the persons of the pris- 
oners ; only, the land warrant belonging to my- 
self, and which was placed in the holster by the 
unknown murderers with the deep design of 
throwing suspicion on my innocent clients. For 
the same subtle purpose, the horses had been 
used by the murderers, and then had been re- 



278 TRELAWNEY. 

turned to their stables in the dead hour of the 
night, so that in the morning light the trail 
might lead directly to these defenseless strang- 
ers. Where then, are the murderers? God only 
knows, they are not here !" 

"I think the}" are here, and pretty safely 
here!" interrupted the state's attorney. 

By the remark Col. Donovan seemed to be 
much disturbed, and it was with strong emo- 
tion he said : '*The lips of the accused are sealed, 
they cannot speak for themselves." Then point- 
ing to Trelawney, he continued; "But there is 
a language of nature written in the human coun- 
tenance, more powerful than spoken words, and 
the hand Immortal never traced cowardly crime 
on the bold features of that man!" 

Donovan paused, trembling with excitement; 
then, after wiping his moist brow, he continued: 
"The flippant remarks of the attorney for the 
prosecution are, unfortunately, not character- 
istic of himself alone, but of his class. 

"Prosecutors feel called upon to convict. Yet 
why should this be so? Why should the shield 
of the law be removed from the breasts of de- 
fenseless strangers, and the sharp spear of the 
law turned against them? 

"Trelawney and his companion are here, in 
the toils of the law, friendless and alone. But 
I can recall one of that name who, in the olden 
time, had a better following; and I am also re- 
minded by the song and the old refrain 



TRELAWNEY. 279 

" 'And shall Trelawney die? 
Here's twenty thousand Cornishmen 
Will know the reason why!' 

"Men love power and are swayed and moved 
by its influence as the winds move the waves of 
the sea. Had my unfortunate friend such a 
follow^ing as the Trelawney of the song, 
this state's attorney would be peradventure, as 
obsequious in his bearing, as he is now insolent 
and intemperate in his language towards him. 

"There has not been developed on this trial 
one scintilla of testimony except circumstantial 
evidence, which is entirely unsupported by di- 
rect testimony. You have heard many cases 
cited in this trial which have been decided upon 
circumstantial evidence alone. 

"You have heard in these cases that the jur- 
ies had been mistaken; the courts had been 
mistaken ; and irreparable wrong had been per- 
petrated against innocent men. 

"Do circumstances speak so loud and so sure 
in this case that you cannot be mistaken? Are 
you prepared, on such evidence, to condemn 
these prisoners to death, to take away the vital 
spark? It is so easily done ; it is so quickly 
done ; yet when it is done, despite the skill of 
mortal surgery,it is forever done ! 

"The state's attorney says the murder of 
Richard Hintou must be avenged. 

"These prisoners are here, strangers and 



280 TRELAWNEY. 

friendless ; it is always safe to condemn to death 
the stranger and the friendless ; for after their 
death there will be none to remember their 
wrongs ; they will be forgotten ! 

"But may God forget me when Ineed help, if 
I should ever consent to use the quibbles of the 
law to hamper to their destruction the steps of 
innocent men !" 

Then Col. Donovan walked up close to the 
jury box and shaking his hand in the faces of 
the jurors, continued with great earnestness: 

"Should you, relying on these flimsy circum- 
stances, condemn these men to death — I take a 
long look ahead to that time when I, and these 
old men hereabouts have been gathered to our 
fathers — to that time when the revelation shall 
have been made to you.younger men of this jury — 
that you have been mistaken — that Trelawney 
and Symonds were innocent men ! 

"I draw the veil over the scene to conceal the 
remorse and recrimination of that time, and 
speak no more on this subject forever!" 

Donovan sat down; tears were on his cheeks. 

After a brief space of silence Trelawney 
reached out of the prisoner's box and pressed his 
hand in gratitude. 

The attorney for the state arose, and after 
commenting severely on the address of Col. Don- 
ovan, began to discuss the circumstantial evi- 
dence that had been brought out in the trial. 



TRBLAWNEY. 281 

His face wore a smile of triumph peculiar to 
prosecutors everywhere, when sure of their cases. 
In a short time, however,he paused, saying : "The 
evidence as presented to you in this case, gentle- 
men of the jury, is all conclusive of the guilt of 
these prisoners, and I shall not longer tax your 
patience or the patience of the honorable court in 
discussing it ; it would be an insult to your intel- 
ligence — so I shall rest here." 

Then after a stern, brief charge from the court, 
which in its general tenor seemed to be much 
against the accused men, the jury retired. 

IV. 

Two hours later the ringing of the court house 
bell announced to the citizens that the jury was 
ready to render its verdict. 

All the waiting crowd hastened to the seat of 
justice, the attorneys assembled, and the pris- 
oners were brought into the dim light of that 
dingy old room, there to await their fate. 

It was more than half an hour before the 
court could be found, and the suspense must 
have been very trying to the prisoners, as it was 
evidently to the jurors who appeared ill at ease 
under the calm gaze of the two men whose all 
was in their hands. 

When the court appeared and the usual formu- 
la had been propounded, the foreman of the jury 
arose and said in a weak and trembling voice : 



282 TRELAWNEY. 

"We, the jury, find John Symonds and James 
Trelawney, the prisoners at the bar, guilty of 
murder in the first degree!" 

Then silence fell on the room, which was bro- 
ken only when the judge ordered the prisoners 
to be returned to their cells. 

This verdict was a foregone conclusion ; it 
called forth no exjDression of surprise or of j^ity 
for the condemned men. 

Three days after this time the prisoners were 
arraigned before the court in order to receive 
their sentence. 

"Stand up !" said the judge to the i^risoners. 
They both arose and stood in soldierly attitude, 
Symonds taking his place a little to the rear of 
Trelawney. 

"What have you to say, John Symonds, why 
the court should not now proceed to pass sen- 
tence upon you according to law?" demanded 
the judge with unusual severity. 

Symonds cast a quick glance at Trelawney as 
if seeking aid, but the latter did not remove his 
eyes from the court. Then the prisoner looked 
helplessly to the bench and shook his head in 
stolid despair, remaining silent. 

When the court turned to Trelawney with the 
same query he had made the other, this prisoner 
raised his hand, as if in military salute, and 
spoke with grave dignity as follows : 

"I have nothing, your Honor, to say, that can 



TRELAWNEY. 283 

change this verdict; I merely raise my voice to 
protest my innocence, and the innocence of my 
companion. I think our innocence may be proven 
within the lifetime of some now here present; if 
not, it will be proven in the world to come ! 

"I will admit that it is a grievous thing for 
me, who have always lived an honorable life, to 
die an ignominious death ; but I shall try to 
bear my last burden here, as I have borne mis- 
fortune in other lands." 

He then bowed to the court in token that he 
had finished. 

The judge without following the usual preamble, 
said: "James Trelawney and John Symonds,the 
sentence of this court is that you, and each of 
you, shall on the third Friday in Decembernext, 
between the hours of 10 a. m. and 3 p. m., be 
taken to the place of execution, and there hanged 
by the neck until you are both dead, dead! 

"May God have mercy on your souls! 

"Sheriff, return the prisoners to their cells." 

The crowd dispersed, discussing as they went 
out the merits of the trial. But one w^ho spoke 
in a loud voice seemed to express the sentiment 
of all, when he exclaimed : 

"These land pirates won't come in here 
again and kill one of our best citizens!" 

"Oh no," said another, "they'll stay here 
till Gabriel blows his horn!" 

And this poor wit evoked laughter from the 



284 TRELAWNEY. 

vengeful crew, who rejoiced in anticipation of 
"a hanging," a rare spectacle for them, and 
more in their thoughts than any triumph of 
justice. 

The few remaining weeks were occupied by 
the condemned men in making appropriate prep- 
arations for their end. But they continued to 
observe unusual reticence in regard to their 
past lives ; they claimed that their past had 
nothing to do with their present forlorn condition. 

However, it was learned from the meager de- 
tails let fall at diiferent times, that Trelawney, 
though English by birth, had served for many 
years in some army of Asia, and that Symonds 
had been his military servant. 

After the trial the effects of Trelawney had 
been returned to him by order of the court. It 
was found that he possessed eight or ten thous- 
and pounds in English money besides papers or 
memoranda concerning property in England. 

He wrote his will with his own hand, leaving 
his money and property to his nephew, one 
Edward Trewlaney, with the English army in 
Europe; at least, he was supposed to be there. 
He sent as a precaution a letter directed to the 
Club frequented by his nephew^ when in London. 

His best horse he presented to Col. Donovan, 
"his respected friend ;" the other, he gave to 
Luttrell, "in remembrance of the last day's 
sport he ever had on earth!" 



TEELAWNEY. 285 

He also rewarded liberally the few persons 
who had shown him any kindness or had be- 
friended him in any way. In concluding his 
last will and testament, he made only one re- 
quest; but that was a very singular one, indeed! 

It ran as follows : "I earnestly beseech those 
in charge to permit my body, after execution, 
to remain in the open air for the period of two 
days before interment. And may it be meted to 
you, in your last extremity, as you shall heed 
this prayer of a dying man!" 

There was no one to claim the remains of this 
doomed man, and as the sheriff had profited 
much by his generosity, he consented to this 
proposition, strange and weird as it was, and 
promised faithfully to carry out his wishes. 

The execution was to take place not far from 
the Taggart House, and "the platform of the 
scaffold," said the sheriff, "could be removed 
and placed under the portico of that ancient 
house, and on this, the body could remain in the 
open air for two days under the care of a watch- 
man." 

For this service a liberal sum of money w^as 
appropriated. The fatal day of execution at last 
arrived, as all days come, wi:! ether freighted 
with joy or sorrow. However, there is not much 
to be told about it except to relate in detail the 
dark and mysterious occurrences which grew 
out of this last and singular request of Tre- 
lawney. 



286 TRELAWNEY. 

The day was bright and beautiful as ever 
shone in December. Col. Donovan and Lut- 
trell were early at the prison to bid farewell to 
their friends, as they were not to be present at 
the execution. The colonel called it "a legal 
murder," and was very much downcast. But 
Trelawney himself cheered Donovan up in a 
hearty fashion, saying: "Colonel, you have done 
all you could for me; there is nothing with 
which to blame yourself; go on and enjoy your 
life — may heaven bless you ! Farewell, my 
friend!" 

Then for a moment he gazed through the open 
door and his eyes marked the blue hills that 
lined the distant horizon ; turning to Luttrell he 
slapped him on the shoulder and said : "This 
would be a fine day for a chase, old man ! 
Good-bye, a long farewell!" 

The friends then parted to meet no more. 

There was a great concourse of people about 
the gallows ; it was expected that Trelawney 
would address the people, and perhaps relate 
the adventures of his life, as the public curiosity 
was much aroused by this interesting and mys- 
terious character. 

If such was the general expectation, the people 
were doomed to disappointment, for he spoke 
not one word. 

It should be noted, however, that by this time, 
after the fates of these men had been sealed 



TRELAWNEY. 287 

irrevocably, there was something of a revulsion 
of public sentiment in regard to their guilt and 
there were those present w^ho began to doubt 
the justness of the sentence that had doomed 
them to death. 

As they mounted the scaffold their foreign, 
semi-military dress, and especially the distin- 
guished bearing of Trelawney, was remarked by 
the vast multitude of people who had thronged 
to the execution as to a show. 

Trelawney stood calmly viewing the land- 
scape while the last preparations were making; 
Symonds, who stood at his left side, seemed to 
take his cue from him as if content to follow 
where he might lead. 

In conclusion, the sheriff asked them if 
they were ready ; the elder man bowed ; the other 
bowed, like an automaton; the drop fell, and 
these two souls passed from earth away. 

V. 

A few hours after the people had dispersed, 
the sheriff took away the remains of Symonds 
for burial ; but the body of Trelawney, accord- 
ing to his promise, he placed on the platform, 
under the portico of the old Taggart house. 

And here, in his easy chair, with his blankets 
wrapped about him, old Tom Slaton, a charac- 
ter of the town, took his station to watch through 
the night. He was armed with his pipe and a 



288 TRELAWNEY. 

half pint of whisky, and thought he could easily 
earn ten dollars, as it was pretty certain that no 
one of the vicinity would disturb his vigils in 
that ghostly place. 

By eleven o'clock Tom Slaton was sleeping the 
sleep that is usually supposed to belong to the 
just, but which also appertains to the intemper- 
ate; and when he awoke from his slumber it was 
not only daylight, but the sun was shining full 
on the eastern end of the portico. 

''It's all right," he said, "there's no one in 
sight, and no doubt the dead man is resting com- 
fortably on the platform up there." 

But he didn't go to look, not he. "I'll wait 
till the sheriff comes," he said. 

It was nine o'clock when the sheriff came. He 
and Slaton then climbed up to the level of the 
platform, so as to view the remains. They little 
expected the surprise that awaited them. 

For when their heads reached high enough, 
they saw absolutely nothing. The body of Tre- 
lawney had vanished, but whether into the earth 
or sky, there was no trace left behind to show. 

This was incomprehensible, and the sheriff 
stood dumbfounded. Soon, however, a large 
number of people collected about the place; and 
Slaton, mounted upon a chair, began to dis- 
course to them in an excited manner. 

"I never closed my eyes during the whole 
night," he said. "This act of vandalism must 



TRELAWNEY. 289 

have been perpetrated by the accursed ghosts. I 
heard them inarching up and down stairs here in 
this old house all night. By the Lord, it fairly 
made my hair raise on my head!" 

This last assertion would, perhaps, have pro- 
voked a laugh, as Slaton was bald, but they were 
all too much frightened for that. 

The more thoughtful citizens held to the belief 
that the remains had been taken away by sur- 
geons for the purpose of dissection and that they 
must certainly be concealed somewhere nearby. 
A "tracking snow" had fallen early the preced- 
ing night, and there was not the slightest trace 
or trail leading from the portico. 

Every part of the town was searched, and es- 
pecially every nook and corner in the old Tag- 
gart house, without discovering the slightest clew 
to the mystery. 

The excitement was unabated not only on that 
day but for many days thereafter. For there 
v^as yet to happen in connection with this sad 
aifair an event which w^ould increase the con- 
sternation of the citizens, and would be the 
theme of many a tale in the years to come. 

Although there was nothing to watch, it w^as 
thought best in view of the mysterious circum- 
stances, that Slaton should take his place the 
second night on the old portico and there await 
developments. 

Slaton came the second night better fortified 



290 TRELAWNEY. 

against ghosts than before ; at least, he was bet- 
ter supplied with whiskey, and by half past ten 
o'clock he was safe in the lap of Morpheus. 
He awoke as before after daylight, and thought 
all was well, as fears of ghosts and evil spirits 
always vanish with the sunshine. 

When the sheriff came, he and Slaton, 
prompted by some unknown impulse, proceeded 
again to look on the platform ; the sight they 
there beheld filled them with fear and amazement. 

For there lay the body of Trelaw^ney, booted 
and spurred and splashed with mud, as if it had 
just dismounted from his horse ! 

No words '^an express the consternation of the 
spectators who soon gathered around. Slaton 
declared solemnly: "I never slept a wink last 
night, but walked this portico the whole night 
through; I saw nobody, and I didn't hear any- 
thing excepc the ghosts galloping round in this 
old Taggart house that every body knows is 
haunted!" 

"I oughtn't be held responsible for w^hat the 
infernal ghosts have done ! The sheriff has got 
Trelawney all safe here now, and my advice is, 
that he take him and bury him at once before he 
has any more trouble with him — them's my sen- 
timents!" 

This was considered good advice, and the 
remains of Trelawney were placed in the grave. 

The astounding news of the return of the 



TRELAWNEY. 291 

body of Trelawney to the scaffold had only 
added fuel to the flame of excitement which was 
all aglow in the breasts of these terrified citi- 
zens. And in their endeavor to explain the in- 
explicable, and to account in reason for the 
irrational, there were many diverse theories 
advanced. 

One was that Slaton had fallen asleep and that 
all this fiendish work was but the cruel jest of 
some lunatic or frantic fool, who had just es- 
caped from a bedlam. But as there were no 
lunatic asylums in this vicinity and as there 
were none of the neighborhood known to be 
entirely bereft of reason, this theory was not 
generally accepted. 

When a deputation of citizens waited on Col. 
Donovan and questioned him in regard to these 
mysteries, the old lawyer said : 

"I wash my hands of this whole matter ; all I 
know about it is that two innocent men have 
been executed, and if it is possible for the spir- 
its of injured men to return from the other 
world to torment those who have persecuted 
them, I think this is a proper place and a proper 
occasion for such demoniacal exhibitions!" 

There was not much of comfort for any citizen 
in these words or in the event that had influ- 
enced their utterance ; and many sleepless hours 
were passed by those who pondered on these 
strange and mysterious happenings. 



292 TRELAWNEY. 

Not long after the execution of Trelawney and 
Symonds, the public offices were removed to the 
new court house and the old Taggart house re- 
mained tenantless for nearly three years. Then 
the new Presbyterian minister, Rev. Mr. Henry, 
and his wife moved into it. They remained 
here for nearly fourteen years until the reverend 
gentleman retired from the ministry and returned 
to the home of his youth. During all these 
years the minister and his wife were never 
heard to utter a word about tiie ghosts that 
were known to frequent their house. 

The first year of their sojourn here, this sub- 
ject was occasionally broached in their presence; 
but this soon ceased, when it was found to irri- 
tate the minister, and to call forth, always, a 
reply pointed with the keenest sarcasm. 

As the years fled, the careworn countenance 
of Mrs. Henry was attributed by her neighbors 
to the annoyances of the evil spirits that abode 
beneath her ill-omened roof ! Yet there was 
some compensation at least in a residence here, 
for Mrs. Henry could raise the fattest turkeys 
and chickens and they could roost on the lowest 
trees in her yard unmolested, for no matter how 
hard the season or how urgent the necessity, no 
prowler of the night would intrude on these 
premises. 

And now the old minister and his family had 
gone away and the old Taggart house was once 



TRELAWNEY. 293 

more tenantless and presented a very forlorn and 
forbidding appearance. 

It was about this time that the clerk of the 
county court received from the West a legal 
document that was to revive with added horror 
the tragic events related of Trelawney. 

This paper was in the form of a declaration 
made in articulo mortis^ and was subscribed to 
by one Absalom Meeks. 

Meeks, believing himself to be on his death- 
bed, stated : 

"I, Absalom Meeks, wish to make this my sol- 
emn statement in the face of death, that justice 
may be done. Job Archer, now deceased, and 
myself were traveling from Richmond, Va., in the 
year 1826, to our homes on the Ohio River in that 
state. This was in the month of October, and as 
we were on our journey we overtook, in Staunton, 
€X-sheriff Hinton of the town of Clonmel, and 
sheriff Hinton told us then that he would reach 
his home on the following Friday night. Now 
we had found out while we were in Richmond 
that he would carry to his home a large sum of 
money from that city. And while Archer and 
myself were traveling on foot, two days 
ahead of Hinton, we often talked about his 
bringing the money. We reached the stable of 
one Luttrell, a few miles from Clonmel, on that 
Friday night after dark. We found in the stable 
two horses with saddles and bridles and pistols. 



294 TRELAWNEY. 

We rested here for some time, when Archer pro- 
posed that we should take the horses ; this we 
did and then rode on until we reached a dark, 
narrow place in the road. Here we stopped for 
the purpose of robbing Hinton. We knew he 
would come along pretty soon. After a time he 
did come and in the excitement we shot and killed 
him, although we only meant to rob him. Archer 
said that now we would be followed and that 
we had better take the horses and pistols back 
to the stable, where we got them, and go home 
through the woods. This we did, and after we 
reached our homes on the Ohio river we thought 
we would be found out. So we moved to Pike 
County, Missouri, where Job Archer died last 
year and where this paper is written. In con- 
clusion, I, Absalom Meeks, believing this to be 
my dying declaration, do solemnly swear that 
these statements are true and nothing but the 
truth, as I hope for mercy." 

This informal declaration was attested by one 
Dr. Jerrold, and the minister in attendance, the 
Eev. Simon Felton. It also bore the seal of Pike 
County, Missouri, and the affidavit of the clerk 
of the county court, to the effect that Absalom 
Meeks had died the day after signing the decla- 
ration. 

Thus it became known to the citizens of Clon- 
mel that in their town twenty years before, tw^o 
innocent men had died on the gallows. 



TRELAWNEY. 295 

It was well enough before these facts were 
confirmed that old Col. Donovan was sleeping 
in his grave. Luttrell too, had passed away, but 
there were living yet, those who had witnessed 
the trial and execution of James Trelawney and 
John Symonds. 

The strange story of these men burdened with 
irreparable wrong, then became the subject of 
common conversation. Men told of the frightful 
happenings at the Taggart house in connection 
with the execution of Trelawney. And Tom Sla- 
ton, the eye-witness to these occurrences, was 
still here and ready to speak for himself. 

The words of Col. Donavan were recalled, 
and the speech of Trelawney, when he had pro- 
claimed in open court: "I think our innocence 
may be proven even within the lifetime of some 
now here present!" 

"And were they not present and alive to tes- 
tify that Trelawney spoke the truth?" 

"But what was the good of it; he was d^ad !" 

"I am not so sure of that," said Tom Slaton, 
"for I have seen things — strange things — that I 
don't care to talk about to young people!" 

Well, there was no reparation to make and the 
sad knowledge that two innocent men had been 
executed in that town, only added to the burden 
and care of a few elderly citizens, who now de- 
plored the hasty trial and the short shrift that 
had been accorded the ill-fated strangers. 



298 TBELAWNEY 

VI. 

From its connection with these sad aifairs, 
the evil name of the old Taggart house, now 
kept as a tavern by one Mark Tudor, became 
darker than ever. Yet it was tolerably well 
patronized by the emigrants who passed this 
way to the western country. However, it was 
noticeable that the citizens of the town were 
rarely seen there after nightfall. 

Now, when the discussion of the dying declar- 
ation of Meeks brought to mind all the mysterious 
bedevilment that had followed the execution, 
the landlord began to have much trouble with 
his servants. For the disappearance and the 
re-appearance of the body of Trelawney could 
never be explained by those who related the 
story as the great mystery of the "haunted 
house." 

And now that it was know that Trelawney had 
died an innocent man, it was not to be presumed 
that he would lie quietly in his grave; but that 
he would "revisit at times, the glimpses of the 
moon," so that living men might not forget his 
wrongs! 

At least this was the philosophy of Tom Slaton 
and several of the older citizens, who knew the 
most about the execution. 

It was about this time that spiritualism had 
its rise in this country; and the "rappings" and 
such disturbances, accompanied by apparitions — 



TRELAWNEY. 297 

which no rational beings could explain — fully 
re-established the time-honored belief in "haunted 
houses," that a realistic age had almost dispelled. 

A number of lecturers on spiritualism had 
held "seances" in the old Taggart house, and they 
admitted with one accord that it was the very 
headquarters of all the spirits. As for "rap- 
pings" and "table-tippings" — they were common 
affairs and most any of the lecturers could "call 
up" the spirit of Trelawney; his jingling spurs 
could be heard as he marched with stately step 
up and down the old stairway ! 

But it was the most troublesome thing in the 
world to have him appear at times when he was 
not "called up," and when no one wanted to see 
him. 

In fact, things went from bad to worse at this 
"haunted tavern," and what with the groans in 
the garret , and with Trelawney marching around 
every night — most of the guests were driven 
from the house, and the servants fled incontin- 
ently ! 

It was the day after the servants had left, that 
Tom Slaton was walking past the Taggart house, 
and when nearly opposite to it, he became all at 
once very deeply interested in the appearance of 
a stranger, who was walking to and fro on the 
portico. 

Slaton looked at this man first with his right 
and then with his left eye ; turning his head the 



298 TRELAWNEY. 

while, after the manner of a turkey. He then 
took off his hat and ran down the road as fast 
as he could go ; and did not stop till he arrived 
at the house of the old ex-sheriff, William Finch. 
Here, he sat down on a bench by the door, but 
it was some time before he could speak. As 
soon as he was able he called for Finch, and 
when he appeared, said: "Bill, didn't you hang 
Trelawney over there by the Taggart House, 
twenty years ago?" 

Finch looked at Slaton curiously, and replied 
very slowly: "You know I did, and I am very 
sorry for it now, too." 

"Well, Bill, he's over there now, walking up 
and down the old portico ! I saw him with my 
two eyes, and it's a sight I never expected to see 
in broad daylight !" was the rejoinder of Slaton. 

To this astounding statement, after a long 
silence. Finch replied: "Slaton I have heard 
enough of these ghosts stories ; now, if Trelaw- 
ney is over there and alive, I want to see him!" 

Through much persuasion Slaton was induced 
to return, and being joined by another old citi- 
zen, the trio soon arrived in front of the Taggart 
House tavern. 

Now, as they were approaching they noticed 
Tudor, the landlord, in conversation with the 
stranger, but as he passed on into the house, 
Slaton observed: "That don't count, Tudor 
didn't know him before he was hung!" 



TRELAWNEY. ' 299 

When they got near enough to see distinctly, 
Finch became more excited, if anything, than 
Slaton had been; he exclaimed: 

"Great heavens, that is Trelawney, sure 
enough !" 

And while they stood there unable to move 
through fear, Trelawney stopped, and taking 
his cigar from his mouth, called out : 

"Hello, Tom Slaton, is that you? How are 
you. Finch?" 

This was more than their nerves could bear, 
and the trio hastily took their departure with- 
out standing on the order of it. 

Soon the whole town was in a furor of excite- 
ment, and Slaton swore that he would never go 
near that haunted place again, if he lived to be a 
hundred ! 

The next morning a number of citizens went 
over to interview Tudor. He said: "The 
stranger, who appeared to be a very iine man, 
had come there the evening before, and had left 
that morning on the stage coach." 

"His name? oh, yes, there it is on the register." 

And there, sure enough, they found, written 
in a bold hand, the signature — "Trelawney, 
London, England!" 

The sight of this name appeared to cast a 
spell on these excited citizens, so that they left 
the tavern hastily, shaking their heads, but ask- 
ing no more questions. 



mo TRELAWNEY. 

However, Tudor had not taken the trouble to 
inform his anxious enquirers that he had 
prompted the stranger in regard to the names 
of Slaton and Finch, when those two cronies ap- 
peared to be taking such a deep interest in his 
(the stranger's) appearance. 

So that when Tudor sought to explain these 
matters later, it was all taken as an afterthought, 
and his neighbors presumed he was only trying 
to bolster up the failing credit of his tavern. 

But things were continually growing worse, 
and had been tending that way for several years 
at this old mansion; so that Tudor was, perforce, 
induced to listen to the proposition of the Rev. 
Slaton-Hicks, who said: "I shall come over 
some evening, about sundown, with a few of my 
steadiest church people, and hold a short, relig- 
ious service on that old portico ; after which, I 
shall lecture the people on the folly and sinful- 
ness of a belief in ghosts, and I think that will 
surely quiet things." 

Now, the Rev. Slaton-Hicks was a very 
learned young man ; he was not only deeply 
versed in the scriptures, but he also knew a 
great deal about Latin and Greek and many 
other things ; moreover, he was a nephew of 
our old friend, Slaton, and one of whom he was 
very proud. 

On this occasion Slaton remarked: "I would 
have gone anywhere else in the whole world to 



TRELAWNEY. 301 

have heard my nephew preach, except to the 
Taggart house; but not there, I beg to be ex- 
cused !" 

William Finch, when he heard of this proposed 
meeting, said: "Maybe the Rev. Slaton-Hicks 
knows a great deal about ghosts ; but I would 
consider him a very great man, if he could tell 
me how Trelawney, after I had hung him until 
dead and placed his body on the Taggart House 
portico — how that body went away and came 
back again, twenty-four hours later! And how 
that body went away with shoes on, and came 
back again wearing boots and spurs ! Oh, yes ! 
it's all very well to talk, but how did Trelawney 
come back and walk on that portico, and call 
Slaton and myself by name, twenty years after 
he had been hung? If there are no spirits, how 
can such things be? Now, if the Rev. Slaton- 
Hicks will explain these things to me, I will be 
willing to throw in the 'rappings' and the 
'table tippings, 'as matters of no consequence !'^ 

On the evening appointed for the lecture there 
was a large crowd assembled at the old mansion; 
there were even many boys, but the latter stood 
out in the road, so that if anything did happen, 
they might not be embarrassed by gates and 
fences but, as they said: "We will have a fair 
show to get away." 

Everything went off very well during the 
short religious axercises except noises were 



302 TRELAWNEY. 

heard in the upper part of the house which 
sounded like moans or groans. "That is 
the cooing of pigeons in the attic," Tudor said; 
but as tliere were no pigeons seen flying around 
the place, some persons shook their heads, in 
distrust; however, the explanation was gener- 
ally accepted. 

The Rev. Slaton-Hicks made a very "beauti- 
ful lecture" as the ladies said: the force of it 
was directed principally against spiritualism, 
"that modern skepticism which has revived all 
the ghostly superstitions of theMediseval ages," 
as he defined it. 

And he was going on in this strain in a very 
fine fashion, when the boys in the road became 
vociferous and began to move off at a pretty 
lively pace. 

This desire to get away seemed to possess 
those on the eastern end of the portico also, and 
the crowd there thinned out rapidly, which en- 
abled the Rev. Slaton-Hicks to see as far as the 
pump that stood on that side of the yard. His 
eyes were fixed on that homel}^ object, but more 
especially on the pump-handle, which they all 
now observed was working violently up 
aad down, without any living soul being near 
it, to cause the motion ! 

"Gentlemen, this is incomprehensible!" ex- 
claimed the Rev. Slaton-Hicks as he gazed at 
the preternatural exhibition. "I can't explain 
that!" 



TRELAWNEY. 303 

But by this time most of the people had left 
the portico and were making their way towards 
the town, and the farther they went the faster 
they wf^nt. 

Yet, when they arrived at the court house, 
the Rev. Slaton-Hicks was not the hindmost 
one by any means ! 

Here, a number of persons stopped at the 
court house gate, and among them were Tudor 
and his family. 

"It's no use denying it any longer," said Tu- 
dor, "the ghosts or spirits surely have possession 
of that old house, and if I live till to-morrow, I 
shall move out of it, and have nothing more to 
do with it forever." 

On the very next day the Taggart house be- 
came tenantless, and its ancient halls and rooms 
were destined never again to resound to pleasant 
human voices. 

VII. 

It is singular to note that most of the old cit- 
izens had passed away, and the plowshare had 
furrowed the site on which the Taggart mansion 
had stood, when its dark impenetrable myster- 
ies were unfolded in a distant city. 

Guy Donovan, the son of the old colonel, had 
always taken a deep interest in the story of the 
unhappy Trelawney. And so, when on a busi- 
ness trip to New Y^ork, he had learned that 



304 TRELAWNEY. 

Edward Trelawney,the nephew of James Trelaw- 
ney, and the legatee of his will was at that time 
in the city — he called to see him. 

Donovan was astonished to observe the re- 
markable likeness that this man bore to his 
uncle ; he, whose perturbed spirit was the sup- 
posed cause of all the preternatural occurrences 
that had afflicted the citizens of his native tow^n. 

Edward Trelawny informed him that he had 
learned through his legal adviser, who had se- 
cured his bequest for him, all the particulars 
concerning the trial and the untimely death of 
his uncle. 

"I have received," he said, "from the same 
source a copy of the dying statement of Absa- 
lom Meeks, which has substantiated the inno- 
cence of my uncle. 

"I was traveling through the western coun- 
try," he continued, "when curiosity led me to 
stop at the town which had been the scene of 
my uncle's misfortunes. 

"I was even entertained at the tavern that 
had been so intimately connected with the last 
days in the life drama of my gallant, but unfor- 
tunate kinsman. 

''While there, I remember very distinctly to 
have called out to the men you have named ;they 
appeared to be taking a great interest in my 
appearance on that porch, and as I thought I 
could divine the cause, I hailed them, w^hen the- 



TRELAWNEY. 305 

landlord had given me their names. I regret 
now very much that I did so. I had no idea 
that the effect of that little adventure would be 
so great or so enduring." 

"And this," exclaimed Donovan, "is the sim- 
ple explanation of the great mystery, that not 
only bewildered and frightened Slaton and Finch 
but the whole neighborhood!" 

It was destined that Donovan, while in New 
York, was to be instrumental in solving another 
great mystery. He met there Dr. Cool, an old 
physician and surgeon, who had formerly lived 
in the town of Winston, about twenty miles from 
C. Now, in conversation with Dr. Cool, Dono- 
van had related to him his interview with 
Edward Trelawney and the revelations the lat- 
ter had made. 

Thereupon, Dr. Cool said, it was about time 
that he himself should make an explanation or 
an apology. 

"I was a young, practicing surgeon in the 
town of Winston," he stated, "when Trelawney 
was executed at C. 

"At that time it was extremely difficult for sur- 
geons to procure subjects for dissection. As I 
then had two medical students studying under my 
instruction, and was very anxious to obtain the 
body of one of the men who were to be executed 
at C, I repaired to that place. But I found upon 
my arrival that the condemned men had ample 



306 TRELAWNEY. 

means to defray all their expenses, and so I was 
at a loss to know how I could accomplish my 
purpose. 

"The common prejudice against exhumation 
for such a purpose, was at that time very strong 
indeed, and surgeons were compelled to act with 
great precaution in procuring subjects. 

"But after I had learned of the singular cir- 
cumstance, that the body of one of the men was 
to remain in the air for two days after the 
execution, I began to think this body might 
be procured. As it happened, a brother of one 
of my medical students was a writer in the 
clerk's office at Clonmel, which office, as you re- 
member, was located in an old private residence. 

"To this young man, under a charge of great 
secrecy, I divulged the object of my visit to his 
town; and in behalf of his brother's interest, I 
begged for his assistance. 

"This he consented to render, and the day be- 
fore the execution he showed me a little closet, 
or secret room, which he had accidentally dis- 
covered in the wall of the clerk's office. 

"This secret room was about three feet by 
eight feet, and was entered by means of a mov- 
able panel in the wainscoting of the old room. 
The young man had not shown his discovery to 
any one besides myself, and when we found that 
the remains of the executed man were to rest 
for two days prior to interment on the portico of 



TRELAWNEY. 307 

the old house, and within a few feet of the 
clerk's office, and the secret chamber, it occurred 
to us that it would be practicable to remove and 
conceal them in that secret place, until I could 
find opportunity to convey the cadaver to my of- 
fice in Winston, twenty miles distant. 

"So the night of the execution we concealed 
ourselves in the clerk's office, and after the 
w^atchman on the porch had fallen asleep we 
stole from our place of hiding, and removing the 
remains, hid them in the secret chamber. We 
then fastened the panel, so that it would not 
slide back, and piled law papers and books 
against it, nearly up to the ceiling. 

"As a deep snow fell that night after dark, 
we were afraid to leave the court house on ac- 
count of the tracks we should make. Therefore, 
we concealed ourselves again in the office. But 
in the morning, when the news of the disap- 
pearance of the remains had caused a large 
crowd of excited people to gather around, we 
slipped out and mingled with them. 

"As you know, the excitement grew as the 
day advanced, and the whole town was diligently 
searched. But we had no fears of the discovery 
of our secret room, at least not for two or three 
days, when of course, natural causes would have 
led to its detection. But I soon found I was 
very strong^ suspected, being known to many 
of the citizens as a surgeon and an instructor of 



308 TRELAWNEY. 

medical students. This in addition to the con- 
dition of the weather, caused me to fear that I 
should not be able to transfer the remains from 
their hiding place to my office in Winston, with- 
out detection. 

"During the course of the day I held several 
brief consultations with my young friend, the 
clerk, and expressed to him my fears. We had 
not counted on the people being so greatly ex- 
cited, nor on being so closely watched ourselves. 
The clerk said some of the citizens looked on the 
disappearance of the body as a thing miraculous, 
as there was not left behind the vestige of a trace, 
and the remains were known to have been on the 
portico after the snow had ceased to fall. 

"Finally, after I decided to return the remains 
to the platform, whence I had taken them, this 
knowledge of a belief in the supernatural on the 
part of the citizens, induced the young clerk to 
perform an act which I did not entirely ap- 
prove. 

"By some means he had obtained possession 
of the dead man's spurs, and these he adjusted 
to the boots of the corpse, and then mixed a lit- 
tle mud with melted snow and splashed the 
clothing, after we had placed the body exactly 
as we had found it on the platform. "This,' he 
said, 'will add to the mystery, and turn suspi- 
cion from you. Doctor." 

"It certainly had the first effect!" exclaimed 



TRELAWNEY. 309 

the doctor. "We had pursued the same tactics 
as before," he continued; "that is, we had con- 
cealed ourselves in the clerk's office, but we were 
surprised to see the old watchman on the porch 
the second night, as there was nothing to watch. 
He gave us little trouble, however, as he was 
soon fast asleep. We were very particular in 
arranging the remains as they had been, and it 
was impossible for any one to notice the slight- 
est difference in their disposal, with the excep- 
tion of the spurs and the splashings of the mud 
Now, as luck would have it, the snow had fallen 
again in the early morning and then ceased. 
Hence, we were compelled to hide in the build- 
ing till daylight for the same reason as before. 

"So, when the sheriff came, there was not a 
track about the house, but there was the body of 
the dead man, after an absence of twenty-four 
hours, booted and splashed with mud, as if just 
returned from a journey." 

This was the story that Dr. Cool recounted to 
Guy Donovan in New York. And when he had 
finished, Donovan cried: "Doctor, you have 
solved the great mystery that has perplexed the 
people of our town for more than twenty years." 

The strange phenomenon of the pump was 
also brought to light about this time. 

It appears that a few days prior to the lecture 
given on the portico of the Taggart house by 
Rev. Slaton-Hicks, two young miners were dig- 



310 TRELAWNEY. 

ging coal on the lands adjoining the Taggart 
manor, and whilst they knew they were trespas- 
sing on the latter, they were not aware that they 
were so nearly under the house, until one day in 
digging, they cut a hole in the pump-stock with 
their picks. They were alarmed, lest their tres- 
pass should be discovered; so they sawed out a 
piece from the broken stock, and neatly fitted a 
block of wood therein, so that the stock might not 
be taken up for repairs, and thus reveal their mine 
under the Taggart lands. 

Now these two miners were present at the ser- 
vices held by the Rev. Slaton-Hicks, and the 
thought occurred to one of them that by going 
down into the mine, he could by taking out the 
block from the stock, work the pump-handle by 
taking hold of the rod, and thus add his quota 
to the ghost business. 

Now, when the pump-handle began to move 
by the unseen hand, there was only one man in 
the large crowd, gathered about the old portico, 
who understood what it all meant, and his lips 
were sealed for the reasons given. 

The explanation of all this was brought about, 
when the miners on the Taggart lands also ran 
their "heading" against the pump-stock, when 
the "workings" of the other miners were dis- 
closed, and the neatly fitted block of wood in the 
pump-stock, explained the last mystery of '-the 
old haunted house. 



TBELAWNEY. 311 

Time assuages sorrow and allays excitement, 
but it brings no compensation for irretrievable 
mistakes; and many marvel now at the blind 
zeal of their fathers in pursuing, on the trail laid 
by artifice, innocent men to their doom. But 
this trail, "circumstantial evidence," will never 
again lead to death in the courts of Clonmel, un- 
til the events here narrated have faded from 
memory. 



THE END. 



lun 10 



1899 



